Monthly Archives: August 2015

The Steam Engine

a poem by

A mellifluous voice briskly announces her arrival,
Stirring a sudden activity on the crowded busy aisle.
Excited, all gleaming eyes stare at her beamingly,
Blowing a long whistle, she glides down majestically.

She stops with a clang and loud screeching noise,
Purging pent up energy; she looks great in her poise.
Though dark in complexion and rustic in appearance,
I love her; she is an epitome of strength and endurance.

Exhausted, in her journey, she settles down to recuperate,
Shovels of coal fed generously into the hearth, to satiate
Her hunger; belches coils of smoke, in her effort to digest,
From the dangling hose, she quenches her perennial thirst.

The shimmering embers generate in her a new vigor,
Now she is fit for the travails of the journey, greater.
The green flag flutters; meekly with effort she heaves,
Hissing a deep breath, blowing a whistle, she leaves.

Crawling and groaning under heavy burden,
Like an old man drawing a cart over-laden,
Slowly and steadily she accelerates her pace,
Generating a rhythm that sets the beat, in her race.

And she disappears into the enveloping darkness, afar,
I can see, the trails of white whiffs dissipating in the air,
And hear the reverberating whistle, diminishing gradually.
Reminiscence of her awakens the dormant child in me, readily.

The Bride

a poem by

The night was full of expectation and joy,
like any other bride, tense and touchy.
Trembling with anxiety and happiness.

The night was fragrant
Her friends spread out bouquets of
flowers which carried a heavenly scent
around, the aroma of love.

The night was ready to welcome her lover
The birds sang a touching melody
The winds danced, and the clouds
flushed out the light.

The night was terrified to see her
lover coming and she started melting
in the glory of her lover,
Soon she dissolved in the aura.

The night was happy to merge into
her lover… the dawn.

India – A Paradox

a poem by

There are two worlds in India,
One world that is rich and the other is poor.
One that is hungry and lives on one meal,
The other has the option of a five-course meal.
One that wears only designer wear,
The other has nothing but tatters to wear.
One whose celebrations are reported on Page three,
The other’s miseries are reported only for TRPs.
One that has just one family living in a building with 25 floors
The other has no home and sleeps outdoors.
One that has spas and showers with hot and cold water
The other has to walk miles to fetch a pot of water.
And yet in between these two worlds is the middle-class family.
Sandwiched and exploited by both the worlds callously.
One that struggles and toils to pay their taxes and bills,
Who has to fight reservation, inflation and has dreams to fulfill.
A paradox of poverty within a world of plenty,
Only education can free us from this disparity

Wished

a poem by

The rhythm of the wind
The clap of the rain
The whistle of the breeze and
The dance of the leaves

The sway of the clouds
The shy of the moon
The shock of the stars and
The songs of the night

The touch of your finger
The turn of your brows
The curve of your lips and
The light in your eyes

The scent of your soul
The sweet of your thoughts
The warmth of your breath and
The pearls in your smile

Takes me to a different world
Where there are no words…

Fruitless Freedom

a poem by

Fruitless freedom-
From solitary reaper
To band wagon creeper
As common man I never breathe
Freedom
Scared and hold my soul in fist
Speechless dumb in crowd
Unbelievable, strange gazes on each
Others
Uncanny faces labeled as if wicked
No reactive rebelling blood in my
Veins detected
I muttered in bathroom
World must be changed
And feel words while brushing teeth
Afresh
Shit on my head
That carrying worried thoughts as burden
For insecure future

Hate my all acceptances as slavery
I am searching lonely for words of truth

A nominee to stand against to stop all this evil
TRUTH– whomsoever concerned lonely like me
These all damnable scenes eye soring but
I have to salute and smile before them
Who never deserve it.
How I stooped my neck before my nation’s flag?
And I don’t know where my soul fly
And humanity died in heartless massacre in name
Of religion
JUSTICE it maybe snoring after late night feast of
Booze
Or it may be vigil whole night worrying for happenings
With Useless remained sensitive heart sentimentally.

The Beautiful One

a poem by

Nefertiti the beautiful one,
Nefertiti spoke
From mounds of sand and
Heaps of loose stone
Her body has become heavy
And centuries of sickness has invaded her.
Her name was
What lifted Akenaton’s heart.
Now under a boundless sky
The pulsating passion
Lie locked in a granite hollow
And her youth, beauty, power
All edited in collected writings.
She misses the barges up the Nile
And a call of a heron
In the high wind.
She urges the passerby to
Delve into her
To decrease the leagues
Between her and
Violet immensity.
Her breasts fall forward
Her lungs swelled out
With air
She stretches out from the
Abyss of deep time.
And time looses meaning.
The air, the very air
That you and I breathe
Nefertiti breathed
Unchanged, unaltered through centuries.

Winter

a poem by

The wind felt blistering, in ways I have not felt in a long time
As always, the roads remain empty this time of the night
I should have known better that to traverse this far
And yet the pull of snowy grounds
Called out to me in ways that anything else ever could

My fingers move gently across the broken fence
And the old memories of laughter and smiles twist in the wind
That had been such a long time, I think wistfully
Childhood that faded into wisps of smoke
So quickly

Winter, is of course, a constant
Like an ancient friend it greets me
The cold embrace felt foreign yet familiar
I took a deep breath, and chuckled to my self
Even after all this time, Winter- You are still the frozen beauty

I kneel down beside the fences, and run my fingers idly through the snow
The cold bites and stings, and I relaxed after a long time
The trees were naked and brittle- exposed
And the sky was a large canvas with diamonds
The snow- like an endless white desert before me

I bit my lip and drowned in silence
And enjoyed my time with my frozen beauty

The Angel

a poem by

The Angel
Do I love you?
NO
I adore you…
You are the keynote of my life
The core of my existence
An inseparable facet of my soul
Your hues
Have created beautiful paintings in my world
The paintings of ecstasy
Of supreme bliss
I always longed for someone
To fill up the void
To charm me with her joviality
To enthuse me with positivity
To imbibe me with hope
To envisage the script of my life
And I have got you
You
The ineffable damsel
With beauty that soothes
With a heart that exhibits fathomless simplicity
With disposition which is divine
With voice that infuses melody
The ultimate life-partner
Which I always yearned for…
Thank you my Gauri
For mingling myself with you…

Gangrape

a poem by

Dumbstruck time
Stands motionless
Head hung in shame

Broken thoughts fragment
The child-woman’s dreams
Dreams woven across time
Since the first stirrings of passion
When love’s frenzied pulse-beats
Went racing through her being
Disbelief breeds in the
Blood-soaked sheet
Evil lurks in every drop of air
Howling winds pound on
The lone window-pane
Hailstones rain ruthless

As dead dreams fall heavy on her
She staggers out in tatters
Bruised breasts smell of raw flesh
The soul weeps in the ashes
Of burnt apparels of dignity

A feeble futile attempt
To unwrite the story fails
Time stands stone-still
Echoes of dry dreams
Haunt uncertain metaphors
Of still-born tomorrows

Chrysanthemums

a poem by

We were brought up
By the rule book
That spelt love for us daughters
As immoral, infidel,
Masked, contagious
Dreams were cached
Within constrained confines
The self remained dwarfed-
Bonsai like
Unable to reach beyond its grasp
But a moment of wild defiance
Unleashed a tempestuous will
To self-expression
I followed love’s trail
Scanning the horizon of darkness
To arrive at the moonlit patch
Of a perplexed night-
A night that witnessed
Love’s intimate dance
In the sensual celebration of
Intimacy between
Soul, mind and body

With the first footfall of dawn
I tore all pages
Of the book of norms
Made paper-flowers out of them
This morning they have metamorphosed
Into golden-orange chrysanthemums.