Bye, Bye ............, Far Away

 

I try to look at

Something far away,

But alas! Like a short chat

Discourses fall far away.

 

The wilderness strayed afore,

Trees, terrain obstruct the show,

Walled, blinded feel I before

Nature’s spread; feel low.

 

With narrowed eyes

Me cast a pinching sight,

Lost it is but in skies;

Something far and above the flight.

 

One picture is above:

From that far to my back;

Other end eyes don’t show,

Multi-coloured in between hack.

 

I gaze the one vaulting

Like the brow upon eye,

Below goes the sighting,

And the ‘far’ bidding one-sided bye.

The Place where Time Doesn’t Find Space

 

The sun is shining brightly,

And sky if never painted cloudy,

Tranquility arises so highly;

Aloof from any reversal tidy.

 

Everything without a hurry;–

Man, material contended, satisfied,

Relax for calmness to carry

Them away from hot pursuit which once tied.

 

Where hast that urgency gone?

Makest which time too small,

Single instant now run

Endlessly without a fall.

 

Who sayth time never varies?

And instances are all the same,

Now each duty-less unit

Carries on and on without a name.

 

Ageless they now become,

Those who share this silence,

What are few sips of rum?

Here time drunk loses sense.

 

Transience wails somewhere far,

As it can’t hurry over here

To create same killer war;

The war which permanence fear.

 

Thus, the time gost on living,

Surviving without any rebirth,

And clock’s hands stop circling,

Lo all watches without worth!

 

O God! Make places such

Inside our restlessly bumping hearts,

Calculations where don’t matter much,

And soul where only happily flirts.

Springy Songs from Far

 

Now when the spring comes,

Attired with floridity, sprouts

New leaves, greenery new,

Alas! Visitors but prepare to go:

Ducks, storks, wadders,

The wagtails and the cranes,

Spent who chilly winters here,

Prepare these now to go.

Beatles, bees and insects,

Make merry meanwhile,

Sing a song of farewell,

Their small hymns and flights,

Wish the goers a happy journey,

Prepare as they for distances far,

Woodpecker, wren, sparrow,

Along with natives other

Rejoice over fruits ripening,

O gipsy birds, mind not!

Spring here if not thine,

Waits it somewhere else too,

So fly thou strong birds,

Spring somewhere calls you,

Sings a welcoming song,

If the spring flowering here

Bells departure thine,

Waits it gazelle eyed somewhere too.

Pages of My Effort: Tryst with Heaviest Book with One Lined Pages

 

Nothing seemst to ‘change’

Despite the rule much fabled:

Booked life: its page

Or pages left just one lined,–

 

‘Trysts hard and fail,’

And me gost turning more,

Hoping to arrive at destiny’s hail,

Alas but monotony roar!

 

Life mine with few weighty words,

Make these an iron rod;

Black, heavy for paged birds,–

Too weighty a single turn, O God!

 

Thus, huge efforts with each page,

Still, but, the familiar ones gaze.

To the Indian Woman on the Stage

 

O Indian woman!

Ye familiarise world now,

Beauty, brain, grace bravo!

Jewel amongst jewels,

Diamond outside, or inside dwells,

Alone and aloof thou adorn the crown!

 

Ramp they call it there,

Thou walk thy rise;

Bodies theirs as man’s prize,

Thine becomes our pride,

Answers theirs only worldwide,

Vow! Thine art from where?

 

Reveal they physique outside,

Thou bringst the unseen,

Invisible; O smiling queen!

The Indian fairy on the stage,

Million dreams brightly gaze

At the dreamy pair where the crowns ride.

 

Salute thee O conqueror!

Ye breakst bondage physical:

Realise the man historical,–

Beauty not only in curves,

Oozes also through deep nerves,

Thank thee O smiling mirror!

 

O solace to the billions

Amongst poverty, toil without rest,

Aastha thou come at last;–

The new daughter of India,

Burning as the only diya;

As if moon brighter by a trillion!

 

World now at thy feet,

Proud anklets jingle,

While the noise around mingle

In thy success cry;

Eyes thy never too dry,

And so many defeated; more to beat!

Oh! I am in love again!

 

Ye people, who speak of love,

Long after the first one is done,

Ye only fool some dove:

Numerical love is but a fun.

 

Fun from the side one, or both,

Befooling for marriage or lust,

Justified by taking an oath,

Alas! First one was the pure most.

 

Cometh which by itself,

Others are but dragged,

First one fools itself,

Others befool to be begged.

 

The former one nothing knowst,

Later ones almost spy the host.

Sand Grain and a Water Drop

 

O thou cattle herder,

What forces thy migration?

‘Save life’ instigate

And thou become a wanderer:

Exiled like a sandy grain,

Flew which too high

And far with an ‘aye’!

Found not, but, rain!

Where ist thy family?

Sandy message they groan,

And thou quench thirst daily.

 

God made cattle for graze:

Easily, without haste,

Battered them, but, with dusty chaste,

Now, harvested stumps they erase,

Outsiders they feel,

Thus the hurried pace

In the land distant,

Abhors which, even, hot western brace,

Helpless, thou ponder over the emigrant's rent,–

Waterbodies too small;

Only the dried crofts for all.

 

How far have ye trodden?

Weight on thy feet

Looks if hoofs beat;

Heavy, wearied; seem broken,

Chin thou support on

The lathi standing faithfully along:

Cool companion thine,

Its fearful strike blown,

And they needn’t its shine,

For the animal energy gone,–

Weakly they swing horn.

 

Urge the rains!

With thy lips more parched;

Personify thy cattle’s soul nerd!

Pray which can’t, only feel the pains;

Join thy family chorus!

O herder, leave them not,

Needy cry can make Him porous,

Sand grains forming 'need dot',

'Rain here or there,'

We also await it like thee,

Single drop falling makest glee.