Free Verse
Friend of the
night
Poor friend
of the night
in the water
that falls
running in length
that
runs
bearing life
that's like
lightningruns
wearing
white-patterns
Flowing
Continuum
The lowly little
worm came up
From somewhere within the soil
Moving in no hurry and
Hurting all about itself from the roughs of the earth
Picking up water and succour from the same rough
Climbing up to the leaves of the grass
Which it helps to grow
Eating its spoils and
Diseasing its live leaves too...
I could hear it calling anyone
And asking what is this
Is it selfish and cruel?
Or otherwise?
Can I go on like this in the endless chain?
The ever green virgin land
Calls for the farmer’s sowing
Making it paste for buds, blooming into fruits
In the ancient ever alive trees
A flowing continuum…
Gate
The gate is India
Gate or Gateway of India
or Calcutta where East India Co landed—
Doesn’t matter, which gate it is...
Here, men and women of great pedigree
ready to bare all to get on...
An unattended bag of an illiterate villager
sends shivers down the spines
Ancient rivers span ancient cities
which dispute sharing waters
Macburgers, Pizzas and Noodles
Coke spraying coconut waters & bottled rivers
The flag and the anthem staycolour
and the song left.
It all started here they say—ended
here too they don’t admit.
Buried hereunder, poets and dreamers trampled under the feet
Running to celebrate independence
and anniversaries of the portraits
Running for new currencies, store of values (what?)—
The central bank being unable to
Protect the home currency.
Gone
Looking at the TV—I
do not watch it
It was interactive, And I was in...
But when did you leave, my son?
Was it in school-final or earlier?
I don't know, precisely.
So scrumptiously—
Your flight, I didn't see.
Know only that,
Indeed, You are gone...
Necessary loss? I cry?
I notice movement in the TV
Calling for my participation
I press forward
Can I catch you—in
another episode & time
in some semblance to you?
No—It's
not possible, I know
You are very special, very unique
In the image of none
But what do I have, Except the ghosts,
Imitations celluloid.
He Provides
He provides
It's true..
My father told me
My mother tells me
My teacher told me
My books tell me...
Yes, He does?
I have no reason to dispute...
He provides
With arms and ammunitions
With nuclear arsenals
for you to kill me
and me to kill you...
He is very kind and loving
He takes away the sheep
from earth
before the wolves swallow them,
He takes away the Gandhis
before another assassin comes on stage.
Her Death
Life withered her.
She was the seasons and the skies
With deep eyes which absorbed me
To find new nerves and hidden selves
Potent in both with burning revelation...
And in her she carried with an
Elemental arrogance all that took me in...
The hurricanes, tempests and the volcanic eruptions
Southern breeze and first gentle drops of rain
Both tried to discover the depths and heights—the
mystery
That each held for the other
That each held for own-self.
Hi Darling
Hi Darling,
Bond a bondage, Logic sans reason, music no rhyme
poetry sans the poet. —not
seem to know you
Elusive are you, Revel in being so indescribable? Language
inadequate! But, wait a minute! Don't for a moment pride
yourself
I can your beautiful smile express—children
at play beam!
Your body take in—sensuous
sunset's radiant redness
And fires of hidden day, your what did I not have?
But did I have all the You—Yonder
to all ends?
I revel in silence, in quiet, Wordless, thoughtless and
speechless
It describes everything well—As
I see—It's
me—And
mine (?)
that I try to find in your depths & you in mine
Not finding it—but
what is it?
Delve deeper and deeper into a bottomless Vast space...
Nothing is enough, Nor fulfilling, Nor are there limits
revel in journeys in intermittent rests of tension & release
And get into the path again for a repeat
Of tension and release…Till what & when
With nothing as Destination final, do we risk the ship—
Ourselves and all—We
sail across, Where do all mariners go...
Hi Moon
O beautiful Moon
Fly fast you must
Time-fettered humanity
to your halos,
That flocks the Earth,
In search of bread
has yet no time
for beauteous serenity
And measures your sojourn
by the moving hands...
