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Showing posts from March, 2016

Love in the Time of Morality

At times, love takes the guise of fake morality
Preaching, the candle light path ways,
While, loving you passionately
like a deep blue night.

He paints his canvas, summer
Like fire on his veins
And pass like wind
Unaware of the spring, mounting
at the edges of his vision.

Just pause and turn back
To see gulmohar fluttering
beats of you and me
over April sky
Like butterflies on a flight

I am no sculptor
to chisel a language
out of your inexpressive eyes
and sudden flashy smiles.

Why don’t you flow to me?
Like an ocean after a quake.

Love

There is a point of time in life
When, the word love overflows
the four walled strokes of language
To touch the most subtle corner
of human imagination.

It’s a journey to your Bodhi
From the most personal,
of your fantasy.

You open your eyes to the world, for the first time
And feel the pulse of the red earth
On your empty wrist.

You no more crave for the body, he.
Or meditations of eternal love.
But some handy ones, occasionally
For the vibes in you,
Just in case.

And now, the world expands
Far beyond your finite backyards
To show the sea coming to you,
the sky falling down in smoke.
And to brood over silences of
Guilt, land, memories and other stories.

You see love crossing your courtyard
And dissolving into,
the streets of hunger and the abandon
As ships into the Mediterranean.
Leaving no signs of the pride, that was.

Learn to love the mornings
That remind you of streets left to the rain.
And pathways extended, like a woman.

You will love the seeds you carry in your palm
And the northern skies with its …

I Wait

I wait for time
Like pollen wait for wind.
I wait for the night
Like night waits for the sound of cricket.
I wait for the next train
Like rails waiting to meet.
I wait for your smile
Like a baby waiting for its mother.
I wait for the sun
Like rays waiting` summer.
I wait for the dawn
Like birds waiting for the flight.
I wait for your shadow
Like dusk over the sea.
I wait for the holy mass
Like sins awaiting penance.
I wait for the wind
Like a desert wanting green.
I wait for your fingers
Like spring waits after the snow.
I wait for your lullaby
Like the sky waiting murmuration.
I wait for the pole star
Like wedding bells in fairy tales.
I wait for a nation, open ended
Like clouds and the endless sky.

I wait for my city
To come by night
I wait for the past
To repeat.
I wait for democracy
To dissent.

I wait in waiting rooms
For distances uncovered.
I wait at the festival ground
For people to turn up.
I wait at the foot of northern hills.
For the snow to melt.
I wait near the river
To be the debris of a distant quake.
I wait …

Revolutions, like Destinies

You don’t write for a long time
When birds have flown west
and valleys turned brown,
from the gold of the fall.
Those evenings you sense your breath
in your body, rhythmic
like the sea at night. Deep blue,
over the silver of the night.
And, you wait for your myth
to sprout, like baby Jesus.
When midnight announces
Revolutions, like destinies.





A WOMAN, @40

By the time you near forty, You begin to enjoy your own company.
You find a seasonal garden within yourself
and roam leisurely, among
birds and insects,
or look at the lone sky
and breathe in
the vastness it contains.

You realize,
men are mere havoc
in the life of a woman, glorious
in her own terms.

The blurredness
of distance
and her clarity of vision.
The peace she makes
with herself.
The long distance gaze
of summer noons.
Her moonlit sandbanks, amidst
overcrowded everyday.

At forty, she awaits love
Mild, sedimentary
and distanced. Like
a child counting
twinkles at night.








The Loss of a Pet Cat

The loss of a pet cat
hurts more, when
you are twelve.
You have grown up,
a bit more
than your little brother
who hopes to get another one.
A bit more
to realize, the hollowness
of a replacement.
And much less
than your mother, smiling
through the wetness of her eyelid
to know tears wont bridge the gap
between the grave and the years
awaiting you.