19 April 2019
(Number of words: )
From the cup of a tea early in the morning
Carrying desires of touching skies
Soars high in the form of steam.
After a while
Dashes here and there
Wanders around the world of fantasy.
Dissolves into nowhere before realizing its dream.
Standing on an estranged place
I slowly sip the tea of life
Prepared without sugar and tea leaves,
Neither any color,
Nor any taste,
And without any sweetness in it,
Only to subside the hunger of dreams
And to quench the flirty thirst of desires.
Starts every morning
With many thoughts boiling inside me,
But wears out
By everyday exhaustion and failures.
Stinks badly like the rotten dreams
And spreads the foul odor of
In every nook and corner of heart.
Since you’ve arrived
The bouquet of roses over the stand—
Kindly adorn them in the vase of your heart
And let the fragrance of love prevail.
Prepare two chairs on the terrace
And let’s park ourselves to some dear moments
Over the table—
Put a bottle of wine and a couple goblet
We shall have tête-à-tête—
Sparing a fragment of life.
Take a glance—
Over my exhausted wardrobe
Over the orphaned books, pens and papers
Over the cigar stubs reclining like a corpse
Over the crumpled face on the mirror
Is your gentle caress.
On a murky brightness of twilight
Solitary you, appeared at my threshold
All over my body
Gushing is a wave of affection.
Not to shut the window panes
This is a belief—
Always my heart hath
Of your homecoming.
In this alien land,
I have brought two eyes
Always seeing the towering dreams.
I have two hands that toil day and night
And, the legs measure more journeys of life.
In this alien land,
I have brought my lip
That smiles sometimes.
In this alien land-
Time has danced joys
Lip has bloomed colourful smiles.
Life has accumulated much happiness.
I have everything, in this foreign land
Only I don’t have is a heart,
That could fit all these,
But it is left somewhere behind
In my own land.
Desert: A Life in Mirage
On the canvas of countenance
Not a single streak of smile is sketched.
Neither is grace seen blooming over cheeks
Like a garden
Where every beauty has flown away
This bland desert!
All around is desiccated brushwood
Come the parched hands of breeze
To caress the youth
The lonesome eyes devoid of exhilaration
The mountain of solitude
Taking heights gradually inside!
For all day long
The eyes keep meeting with the blithe sun
Wind keeps teasing
As if it could attract a stranger with its youth
As if it would woo someone with its impish gesture
Waiting for an amorous embrace
Like a bride’s dream is thus desert living!
In the barren bosom adorned are date trees green
Festooned between earlobes are the poised cacti
In the caravan of copious desires
A mirage life this desert is !
The Old Mountain
As if it’s aiming the firmament of fantasy
Swimming the sea of thoughts
That old mountain.
Around the dead silent caves of ears
Birds chirp mellow euphony
The winds fly past whistling its archaic tune
Thrusting out from the shoulders
With long leaps
The rivers play waterslide.
The clouds come in tiptoe to blindfold
The storm imposes a sturdy kick
In the rage of having deterred its way
The unabashed headstrong breeze
Runs away nipping its cheek.
The bolt of thunder inflicts a sharp jolt
The sun set ablaze a wildfire
On the crags all over the shoulders
Drenching in silence
It withstands the monsoon.
From time immemorial-
In the springs of euphoria
In the winters of dearth
Nurturing buds of poetry in every nook of heart
Like a bard
Standing is that old mountain.