Poems by Ashish Thakur

Moonlit Horizon

a poem by Ashish Thakur

The moon was there,
Not full, barely half,
Enough to lighten,
The edges, and the sky.

There I stood, looking
Impressed upon me,
The bordering line,
I thought to myself,
This is what living is all about,
There is darkness,
There is light,
We fluctuate between the two,
And there is that great divide.

Outlines, in the vanishing light,
These and them all figures,
Floating in the nearing darkness,
Meant to disappear with, onset, of the night.

Night is when the dreamers,
In their element delight,
Caught between the two,
Even the two worlds do not suffice.

The Canvas

a poem by Ashish Thakur

The palette in hands of mine held,
Trembled with that every,
Quaint touch of that soft brush,
And hence,

Stroke upon stroke,
The canvas no more, a perfect bleach,
Splattered across it,
Mind full of colors.

The ecstasy, it drove me on,
Splattering away, onto the canvas,
What, can I not, or would I not,
I never knew.

Yet I continued,
Each stroke followed by another,
Vigorously, as if possessed,
Till I hid, all that bleaches,

That had chanced,
To play upon my mind,
A plain white canvas, no more,
And my palette was wasted upon it all.

Them, inane narrow feelings,
Them shroud, the inkling,
Of the self,
Within and beyond.

Embodying unto itself,
Reiterating, into a shell,
Curling within, to seek,
That cocoon of self.

Can it be, so gratifying,
So as to harbor,
So much within,
Or am I simply, a disturbed mind.