Thursday, November 9, 2023

Among the mountains

 Away from all guile,
where the stones smile,
And silence sings a song
to mountain wind's gong,
With disarming translucency the sunrays
seep into the stones' heart cold,
The eagle flying so bold,
A new reality hitherto untold,
Morose and weary,
and the soul all teary,
I walk on the stony path
with needle sharp memories
frozen in the mind,
like the glacial ice behind,
With a cunning discretion
they slowly creep
by inches over the years,
jarring the stones,
rubbing boulders and crags,
I want to escape
from all that breeds pain
for some soul's gain,
And the stony solitude
seems to feel my estrangement and platitude,
It embraces me,
Bares its secrets for me to see,
Furtively slide a few pebbles,
Dead grass breaks its drowsiness,
It sways
and prays,
With a resounding laughter,
the wind runs after
the stony peaks,
Bubbling and gurgling
a little stream from a glacier,
A huge boulder greets,
stifling a yawn,
in its clumsy, gruffy voice,
I just stand there,
My soul ready to bare
all pains and listlessness,
And looks at the icy summit
standing there like a peaceful hermit,
For comfort, solace and guidance.


Wednesday, November 8, 2023

A little bouquet of soft treasures

A little child's soft touch
is healing much,
Almost an atonement for all grown-ups' sins.
An old person's smile,
innocence beyond all youthful guile
is fresh, honeyed and young.
The gentle touch of a kind heart
is a mightier support
than the rock-solid calculations
in a scheming mind.
Simplicity a far better
ornament than any cosmetic make-up.
Truth is the best representative of God
than any rituals and customs.
Joy is soul's most suitable food
and happiness best food for the body.


Broken forever

It has been a slow burn
and a painful churn
going in the innards of my being,
The blades of those memories
now spin, whir and buzz,
unleashing a tornado in the soul,
The sharp blades cut
and firmly shut
the door to any new bloom
in the heart's gloom,
They cut any new image,
They make noise
to outshout any fresh song's poise,
They unleash winds
to wipe away any new footmarks
of a walk with someone new,
They lick the dew
before a new smile
might grace the suffering pile
and admire and embrace
with grace.

You walked away
with a painful sway
away, away
to be happy and gay
with another heart's new ray
and here I lay,
alone, forlorn and at bay
from all that might give a new day,
Because the rotating sharp blades
whirring in the soul's glades
shake me from inside,
I laugh and smile outside
and cry inside,
I should have known 
that flowers come with thorny bemoan,
The petals and smiles are windblown,
But the thorns remain
as hooks
and nightmarish crooks,
piercing your heart
with a poisonous dart,
Keeping you anchored
in a breached, stormed lagoon,
Shines where the broken moon,
You want to escape from it,
but cannot move even a bit,
You have loved so much
and broken to extent such
that now you can't love anymore,
You just love being tossed away from safe shore,
In love you have given your all
that you love only your fall,
Now you take your pain
as a gain,
You walk in the rain
secretly holding your pain
and pass your tears
as a smile that the raindrop bears,
You are drenched with sorrow and pain
and they think it's just rain,
You are trying to manage the pain inside,
The tortuous heave of the tide,
But they think
you are roiling in joyful pink,
That you are laughing
with the soul happily surfing,
You struggle to pull out the thorn,
while your soul and spirit mourn,
The thorn hooked in your heart
which doesn't allow you to part
from the times gone,
Your soul and spirit bemoan
the dreams broken to pieces,
The hook so firmly embedded,
gone so deep
and going still deeper with a bloody creep,
The hook almost a living entity with roots
and offshoots,
It grows to be a dark forest
without any ray,
Its dark nights hold all hopes at bay,
The long dreary nights
with lonely fights,
Its shadows loom so large
as to barge
into your days
chucking out their rays,
Yoru days are eaten
and smile thoroughly beaten,
You are afraid of a lovely smile
and take it as another guile,
You run away
from any new cuddling sway,
You know you are broken within,
And now you can hardly be a mender
of some lovely heart
seeking your company for a new start,
Looking up to you for solace,
love and peace.
 
 



Monday, October 23, 2023

On an icy mountain

Away from all guile,
where the stones smile,
And silence sings a song
to the mountain wind's gong,
With disarming translucency the sunrays
seep into the stones' heart cold,
The eagle flying so bold,
Smiles a new reality hitherto untold.
Morose and weary
and my soul teary,
I walk on the stony path
with painful memories 
frozen in the mind,
like the glacial ice behind,
With a cunning discretion
they creep slowly,
by inches over the years,
jarring the stones,
painfully rubbing the boulders.
I want to escape
from all that breeds pain
for some soul's gain,
And the stony solitude
feels my estrangement
and embraces me,
Bares its secrets for me to see,
Furtively slide a few pebbles,
Dead grass breaks its drowsiness
and sways
prays,
With a resounding laughter
the wind rams into the pointed peaks,
Bubbling and gurgling 
emerges a stream from a glacier,
A huge boulder greets,
stifling a yawn,
in its clumsy, gruffy voice,
I just stand there,
My soul ready to bare
all pains and listlessness,
and look at the icy summits looming large,
Peace sparks its mystique charge,
I open the portals of my confined being,
and allow the non-being
to enter my little egoistic hut,
the marks of the customized rut,
The untamed force charges in,
and douses the individualistic din,
It's all there to feel and see
and just be, just be. 


Ashes

When all the wars will be over
and nothing left to fight for,
The few remaining people
will seek each other,
looking for the long-lost human love,
and humanity's touch and smell
which long ago fell
into the dust
lost in civilizational rust,
They'd recall words kind
inhumanly left behind
in the mad race
to acquire a superhuman face,
Stories they'd share
and go for a solacing soul's bare,
They'd seek music in some bird still alive,
They'd hunt for beauty in some lone flower's thrive,
They would sit under a still intact tree
to spend some moments free
from wars and hate,
and try to rewrite their fate,
They'd drink water from some little stream,
and would dream
of all that the mankind lost,
which mother nature had given 
for free as a kind host,
They'd then sow,
after that typical humans' row,
faith, trust, brotherhood and love
in the barren burnt wastes 
to savior again the long dead tastes,
They'd drop the seeds of love
among the ashes of war,
And nourish the saplings 
with their repentant tears,
They'd hope that the ash bears
some saplings of humanity,
They'd till their little field
with an affectionate shield,
They'd celebrate fistfuls of yield,
It'd be a very small world again,
A tiny flicker of life
among death, destruction and strife,
They'd share the stories
how they unmade
all that had'n made
under a lone tree's shade.  

The question

These questions are yours all,
And the answers that somehow fall
in your knowledge zone
are also your own explanatory moan,
The questions go out
with a seeking shout,
The answers that come home,
These're your own queries reshaped after a roam,
Your query is your mind's eye
wandering with a searching sigh,
It goes on a prowl
carrying its reaping scythe for a meaningful sprawl,
And after many an argumentative brawl,
Comes it home
after a restless roam,
Transformed now
after debates and discussions
ending in an agreeing bow,
It now fills up the space
left out when it went out to embrace
an iota of meaning for you,
The same vapors now turned dew
carrying a solacing hue,
The question was all yours,
The answer too is all yours,
Just some medium carried it on,
And simply a medium took it home,
Yours it was,
Yours it's now,
Just a subtle change,--
The puzzling cloud turns crystal clear dew,
Just a shape new,
Receive it as your own,
The missing child that was once gone,
Hold it,
Cherish it
and smile
for it has travelled many a mile. 


Momentary kiss of bliss

Don't ye seek permanent bliss,
for then you miss
its softest touch
on your soul bruised much,
Permanence is too big a load,
Leave it for the God,
Soft, soothing is the transient brace
with full grace
on your restless self,
A gentle song to calm down suffering yelp.
So journeyman,
soak the tiny gentle instalment of bliss,
Allow it to kiss
your fatigued nerve,
Feel a bird's verve;
a stream's ripply wave
so beautifully brave;
a vale's beauty
performing its natural duty;
a dewdrop's pride 
shining like a new bride;
a bird's free flight;
a child's unconditional delight;
the silence singing a song
in hilly seclusion for long;
godliness in a forest pristine and pure
where truth pervades all sure;
hope in someone's eyes;
a lover's sweet sighs.
These are little dollops of bliss
that arrive with a momentary kiss,
Grab them,
Soak them,
Imbibe their essence in you,
Then you won't rue
the absence of permanent bliss,
Allow its little representatives to kiss
your tired self
crying for help.