The day I shall be sleeping in my last sleep
Nothing you all will feel strange,
Nor on the sphere can be found any difference.
But for the Bard
All those emotions,
All those feelings
Which were creeping
With the speed of a sloth
Around a greenish sod,
Will evanesce
Like the morning-mist in sunshine.
Every now and then in winter
The yellow leaves falter,
I used to yowl around the Pacific;
Bit-by-bit spring comes
And makes it green again.
Dewy fresh Olive
And I forget the melody of those fallen leaves.
Like that
You all will be fossils of mine,
When I shall be sleeping in my last sleep
Unheard,
Unsung
Like an arid wood.
Saturday, May 30, 2026
The Woodpecker Story
The song that comes out of heart
But cannot be hum,
The portrait that is sketched
But cannot be exhibit;
As soon as
It transformed into a reverie,
Concealed in the deepest corner;
The smell of the burning soul
Dismayed the Zephyr of the Twilight.
Alice,
In these minutes
Wandering leaves of the inert tree
Speak in silence with the wind
And the stars speak with the fire-flies.
And
By those moments
In the blinking beam of the street lights
The reverie gets life again,
It voyages reverse to the stream
Through the heart of Kaveri (Cauvery).
From far away somewhere
There comes the sawing sound
Perhaps a Woodpecker,
Building its nest…………………………….
But cannot be hum,
The portrait that is sketched
But cannot be exhibit;
As soon as
It transformed into a reverie,
Concealed in the deepest corner;
The smell of the burning soul
Dismayed the Zephyr of the Twilight.
Alice,
In these minutes
Wandering leaves of the inert tree
Speak in silence with the wind
And the stars speak with the fire-flies.
And
By those moments
In the blinking beam of the street lights
The reverie gets life again,
It voyages reverse to the stream
Through the heart of Kaveri (Cauvery).
From far away somewhere
There comes the sawing sound
Perhaps a Woodpecker,
Building its nest…………………………….
Alice in My Wonderland
When I see you
I feel
Life is like a tired Sahara
And you are the mirage,
The shelter of a shadow.
Today again the soul insists,
Why time has sung
The song that I can’t hum?
Today again I console the soul
Life is like a ceaseless Sahara,
You are the beauty of a shadow.
When you will leave
I shall quest
What I gain
And what has gone,
Life will still be confined
In the athirst Sahara
You being the solace of the Soul.
I feel
Life is like a tired Sahara
And you are the mirage,
The shelter of a shadow.
Today again the soul insists,
Why time has sung
The song that I can’t hum?
Today again I console the soul
Life is like a ceaseless Sahara,
You are the beauty of a shadow.
When you will leave
I shall quest
What I gain
And what has gone,
Life will still be confined
In the athirst Sahara
You being the solace of the Soul.
Inside a Robot
When the Seagull goes back to the Sea
And we come back from our Journey
Through the Hell;
That is the time when we fall in Love
With the one whom we love.
Each of us lives inside a Robot.
The Sun lost in the Horizon
And we are counting the Waves
From the border.
This is the Sea we look for,
We are born to stand on the Shore.
The Ships are coming from that Horizon
And we see them as Stale.
That is the Beauty of Sea
We look for,
We are born to stand on the Shore.
Our lives too become stale
In the woods of the Concretes,
Like those inert Ferries
Of those Fishermen
Who never return from their Journeys.
So robotic, so cynic we are
Never see our near by ones,
Still counting the waves from the border.
The sea laughs at us,
We are born to stand on the shore……...
And we come back from our Journey
Through the Hell;
That is the time when we fall in Love
With the one whom we love.
Each of us lives inside a Robot.
The Sun lost in the Horizon
And we are counting the Waves
From the border.
This is the Sea we look for,
We are born to stand on the Shore.
The Ships are coming from that Horizon
And we see them as Stale.
That is the Beauty of Sea
We look for,
We are born to stand on the Shore.
Our lives too become stale
In the woods of the Concretes,
Like those inert Ferries
Of those Fishermen
Who never return from their Journeys.
So robotic, so cynic we are
Never see our near by ones,
Still counting the waves from the border.
The sea laughs at us,
We are born to stand on the shore……...
Solace
Alice, open the door of skies
Also open the door of the clouds,
Wake up the napping stars;
They all will guard,
And I shall sleep
I am so tired,
All the smiles on the earth are in tears.
My earth, my sky
Is an ordeal of trailing dreams
Within them I shall be awake and alive
Like an afar dream.
In search of their Nebulas
How many unknown Universe,
How many unseen Photons
Awaiting for their Skies of Love
Lost in the cosmos of melancholy;
Do anyone take a count of them,
All in sleep count only the skies.
Thus Alice
I shall ask you,
Open the door of the clouds
Today there will be downpour
Inside the river.
Also wake up the napping stars
They all will guard
And I shall sleep!!
Also open the door of the clouds,
Wake up the napping stars;
They all will guard,
And I shall sleep
I am so tired,
All the smiles on the earth are in tears.
My earth, my sky
Is an ordeal of trailing dreams
Within them I shall be awake and alive
Like an afar dream.
In search of their Nebulas
How many unknown Universe,
How many unseen Photons
Awaiting for their Skies of Love
Lost in the cosmos of melancholy;
Do anyone take a count of them,
All in sleep count only the skies.
Thus Alice
I shall ask you,
Open the door of the clouds
Today there will be downpour
Inside the river.
Also wake up the napping stars
They all will guard
And I shall sleep!!
Tête-à-tête
It’s so quiet?…….Alice asked.
The Rover Bird replied….
Without anybody’s knowledge
One sandy storm had brought
The news of the Winter,
And above the bald Cactus
Was floating the lone Moon.
All through the Winter
Yellow leaves falter,
The Rover was in revered Love
Wandering around Pacific
Afar from the feeling of Love.
It’s raining ?………Weeks later Alice asked again.
In silence now, the Bard replied……
As like it came,
Same way the Winter gone
Without telling anyone;
And you know
To bring you that news only
Rain has come
Flooding as one outside and within.
And the journey continues………..
The Rover Bird replied….
Without anybody’s knowledge
One sandy storm had brought
The news of the Winter,
And above the bald Cactus
Was floating the lone Moon.
All through the Winter
Yellow leaves falter,
The Rover was in revered Love
Wandering around Pacific
Afar from the feeling of Love.
It’s raining ?………Weeks later Alice asked again.
In silence now, the Bard replied……
As like it came,
Same way the Winter gone
Without telling anyone;
And you know
To bring you that news only
Rain has come
Flooding as one outside and within.
And the journey continues………..
A Promise to Alice
Will there be a morning in my life,
The morning I shall wake up
Seeing your face
Ablaze by the first rays of Sunshine.
There will be no such morning
It is a mere dream,
But I have a promise to Alice to keep;
In my forlorn mornings
And in the tired evenings,
Again and again
O’ Kaveri,
I shall come back to your valley.
May be one of those zephyrs
Humming deep inside the ear
Will bring your news to me
That you are fine
And smiling always as same.
If in the hardship of life
You lost that smile even a bit,
I shall ask those zephyrs
To return to you to sing my poesy
And shall my love
Bring back your smile again…….
The morning I shall wake up
Seeing your face
Ablaze by the first rays of Sunshine.
There will be no such morning
It is a mere dream,
But I have a promise to Alice to keep;
In my forlorn mornings
And in the tired evenings,
Again and again
O’ Kaveri,
I shall come back to your valley.
May be one of those zephyrs
Humming deep inside the ear
Will bring your news to me
That you are fine
And smiling always as same.
If in the hardship of life
You lost that smile even a bit,
I shall ask those zephyrs
To return to you to sing my poesy
And shall my love
Bring back your smile again…….
Love: The Life and Dream
Each moment I fall in love with you
Each moment it is fresh and new,
An unheard feeling of the Ocean Blue
Awake in the dawn
The silent shore
Of the haven of my dreams.
Each moment I realize you as new;
At the reverse bank
You are waiting,
Between both of us
The eternal flow of love.
Still I search for you
In the garden that never blossomed
At the valley near to Nilgiri.
At the darkest of the nights
I remember so many fainted lights,
At the countryside of life
Because of you
Twinkling so many fire-flies.
We never know
We never ask
Whether Love is for us
Or we are for that Love
Let the time decide
Or we may define that time
What was there inside the heart.
The moments that I live with you
And those now left,
Are sour-sweeten with the melody of distance,
Every drop of rain
Brings back you like the spring,
And I can see the portrait of a waiting soul
In your eyes.
In the canvas of life
You are the painter,
Not that we understand all the drawings.
That is the satisfaction of our journey
We don’t have any alternate for Love,
The only way for us
To comeback again and again
From the dead-city
To the Haven of Dreams
And to life.
This side is life
Dead-city at the other,
Amid only one bridge;
Beyond hopes where the soul cries
There also blossoms the magnolia,
Our memories are the expressions of our love.
There may be alternatives
But we don’t have any
For our journey,
We have no easy passage
Our haven is so far !
We voyage in the opposite
Through the heart of Ganges,
In the eyes of earth
We are the colors of the afternoon.
We are among the many
Unknown souls inside the leafs of Classics,
Many names that not written on the Sand of time.
You, me are the simple souls
The image of eternity,
Among us life smells like Kasturi.
There in the heart of our tiny heaven
Reflects our Haven of Loves.
After falling in love with you,
The earth and me
After realizing myself
Our memories keep me awake,
The little earth draws a vast sky.
Slicing open the time
Longing for a new history
Alike the hard desire of an Evening Lady,
Beyond death where lives the life
That is called Love,
Dwelling en masse
The life and dreams…………
Each moment it is fresh and new,
An unheard feeling of the Ocean Blue
Awake in the dawn
The silent shore
Of the haven of my dreams.
Each moment I realize you as new;
At the reverse bank
You are waiting,
Between both of us
The eternal flow of love.
Still I search for you
In the garden that never blossomed
At the valley near to Nilgiri.
At the darkest of the nights
I remember so many fainted lights,
At the countryside of life
Because of you
Twinkling so many fire-flies.
We never know
We never ask
Whether Love is for us
Or we are for that Love
Let the time decide
Or we may define that time
What was there inside the heart.
The moments that I live with you
And those now left,
Are sour-sweeten with the melody of distance,
Every drop of rain
Brings back you like the spring,
And I can see the portrait of a waiting soul
In your eyes.
In the canvas of life
You are the painter,
Not that we understand all the drawings.
That is the satisfaction of our journey
We don’t have any alternate for Love,
The only way for us
To comeback again and again
From the dead-city
To the Haven of Dreams
And to life.
This side is life
Dead-city at the other,
Amid only one bridge;
Beyond hopes where the soul cries
There also blossoms the magnolia,
Our memories are the expressions of our love.
There may be alternatives
But we don’t have any
For our journey,
We have no easy passage
Our haven is so far !
We voyage in the opposite
Through the heart of Ganges,
In the eyes of earth
We are the colors of the afternoon.
We are among the many
Unknown souls inside the leafs of Classics,
Many names that not written on the Sand of time.
You, me are the simple souls
The image of eternity,
Among us life smells like Kasturi.
There in the heart of our tiny heaven
Reflects our Haven of Loves.
After falling in love with you,
The earth and me
After realizing myself
Our memories keep me awake,
The little earth draws a vast sky.
Slicing open the time
Longing for a new history
Alike the hard desire of an Evening Lady,
Beyond death where lives the life
That is called Love,
Dwelling en masse
The life and dreams…………
Mirage
There is no Ocean
Silent the river,
The barren land
And a forlorn traveler.
Oh the desert,
No quench to our thirst;
Even after crossing The Sahara
We have Gobi,
We have Thar
Within the heart of each lover’s
May be love is there,
And so there are
Drops of Ofelia in the Air;
After that remains the Nubilous Azure.
We have thirst,
So there are
Tallyho of the Desert,
Darkness of Cactus
And the long miles ever.
Thus
Chasing the Mirage
Lost in the outcry of his past,
The aloof traveler.
If there is thirst
It is in our minds,
Let be if it is;
Kerbala of our life subsumes
Still Love of the Oasis.
But
From that antique-age
We are voyagers of the arid land,
(For us)
Oases are the unseen image
On the way to those unknown Mirage.
Thus
Group by group
The Gypsy traveler,
After crossing Thar,
Coffined in the colossal of
As well the sand-steps
Dwindle away amid the Twister.
They are History
(Does love is only history?)
And so are
The Skies of their dreamy hearts
Those used to blaze the Sun.
They are the conquered souls,
But they too are the bystanders
Through the times
Of the journey of man, lone.
We too are journeymen of the same
The eternity beyond the time.
There is love for us,
We are for that Love
And are the Oases of our part.
If we too don’t spot that colossus
We will also be past
Time will carve now and again
The same dead duck Epitaph.
This is our time
Today is ours,
Why do we wait for the morrow,
Morrow that never comes
Amid the counts of gloomy Calculus;
Present is our loves.
Oases are there
Therefore the Mirage,
There is love
So are the Nubilous Azure
And the unheard feeling to be apart.
We are here
That is the truth.
Right and wrong,
Loss and gain;
Merely life is not that quadratics
Nor love only Hormonics.Summary
One day we confront the time
And whisper to our own;
Our demise may not mark in the Ether
Our love may not arouse the napping Star
But still we won’t complain to the nature,
Oh the Virgin Earth, we too are lover.
Whose sun stale
Never strive to excel,
Even don’t search for the static central;
Two-three fireflies twinkle round the helm
Enough life for them
They don’t long for our battle.
We are not those countrymen
Eat, couple, sleep and cease forever,
Strive only to negate the primitive fear.
Death, as simple as our living
But do our lives so simple still?
We, the part of that intricacy
It doesn’t have any summary.
We are souls strange beside the North-Door
We are bards of the Crossroad
We are Jurassic, we are Jujutsu,
We are the Nauchiketa forever.
Our verses, not the tragic Narcissus
Nor grimy with Self-hug;
They are Ragas of lives passed and to come
They are Bebop of the river,
Our first love for the Earth.
The haven of our love
Proud of the tides that turn,
Singing a Beethoven miles away
Crossing the rim of the Other-part,
A distant Monk and so on
Gulping Hemlock for the sin of bringing Sun
Ignite the lamp of our civilization,
Bring us the news of a Tiny-shore.
There is no summary of our journey
There is no summary of the tide,
Can’t be for any flinty Poesy;
Only be for stale wisdom
And the Dead Rally.
And whisper to our own;
Our demise may not mark in the Ether
Our love may not arouse the napping Star
But still we won’t complain to the nature,
Oh the Virgin Earth, we too are lover.
Whose sun stale
Never strive to excel,
Even don’t search for the static central;
Two-three fireflies twinkle round the helm
Enough life for them
They don’t long for our battle.
We are not those countrymen
Eat, couple, sleep and cease forever,
Strive only to negate the primitive fear.
Death, as simple as our living
But do our lives so simple still?
We, the part of that intricacy
It doesn’t have any summary.
We are souls strange beside the North-Door
We are bards of the Crossroad
We are Jurassic, we are Jujutsu,
We are the Nauchiketa forever.
Our verses, not the tragic Narcissus
Nor grimy with Self-hug;
They are Ragas of lives passed and to come
They are Bebop of the river,
Our first love for the Earth.
The haven of our love
Proud of the tides that turn,
Singing a Beethoven miles away
Crossing the rim of the Other-part,
A distant Monk and so on
Gulping Hemlock for the sin of bringing Sun
Ignite the lamp of our civilization,
Bring us the news of a Tiny-shore.
There is no summary of our journey
There is no summary of the tide,
Can’t be for any flinty Poesy;
Only be for stale wisdom
And the Dead Rally.
High Way
Death at the other
This side is life,
Median, the High Way
Rat race of unceasing survive.
A Flush Green
From side to side
Flowed along the bumpy wounds,
Chalky the Horizon
The gloomy Miles,
Ever so often the sky smiles.
There are roads and avenues
Round the globe
Around the sea,
Buried at the crossroads
Tales of countrymen those defy.
Each step the comrade put forward
Essay to hop the High Way at a glance;
The antique laughs at these naives
Shed tears at hindsight,
Where will be an end to this journey?
Vanishing away
On and over the High Way.
Blithe at times,
At times sulky
Unheard music of the sides;
High way, the bridge between Death and Life
Still how apart they confront the time.
Distant sun brings the mirage upfront,
Slushy avenues at rainy sundown;
The dozy traveler, forlorn the soul,
Miles away the gloomy Horizon.
This side is life
Death at the other,
Median, the High Way.
Aiming antique quiver in the middle,
Sparkling the mystic way.
This side is life,
Median, the High Way
Rat race of unceasing survive.
A Flush Green
From side to side
Flowed along the bumpy wounds,
Chalky the Horizon
The gloomy Miles,
Ever so often the sky smiles.
There are roads and avenues
Round the globe
Around the sea,
Buried at the crossroads
Tales of countrymen those defy.
Each step the comrade put forward
Essay to hop the High Way at a glance;
The antique laughs at these naives
Shed tears at hindsight,
Where will be an end to this journey?
Vanishing away
On and over the High Way.
Blithe at times,
At times sulky
Unheard music of the sides;
High way, the bridge between Death and Life
Still how apart they confront the time.
Distant sun brings the mirage upfront,
Slushy avenues at rainy sundown;
The dozy traveler, forlorn the soul,
Miles away the gloomy Horizon.
This side is life
Death at the other,
Median, the High Way.
Aiming antique quiver in the middle,
Sparkling the mystic way.
Epic of the Deads
How old be the Earth
How antique be the History
How many Eons gone by,
Leaflet of each is a Rhapsody;
Manuscript of the Epic of the Deads.
Then
That primitive mother on Earth,
The ancient woman of Stories,
That Sita…………..
Reborn again and again
Confining in the Garden of Glories
Of the Ravana and the Rama.
Rhapsody of ours
Spreads so vast
From Railway Station to Footpath,
From Slushy Avenues to Jatayu’s Dockyard.
Eunuch Brihannala be our Arjuna,
Our forebear is the unsighted Dhritarashtra.
Ramachandra of ours
Never reads Divine Comedy,
In front of us
Been raped upon the footpath
The menstruating Draupadi.
Have no Krishna for us.
He is stale, the Patriarch Bhishma
Buried in the Graveyard of Grain,
Inert like the Tree of Night.
These stolid Woods of Night
Carry the future of our Cities,
The carcass of Mahenjo-daro.
Every child to be born of us
Will be the voyagers
Of Tragic Karns’s inflamed path.
The old game is on
To fill the Vacuum Script
Again by void;
Some dots, white and black
Of love for the life.
Yet
Amid the Epic of the Deads
There be an episode of living grace.
There born our Mother, the Teresa
There born the Mary’s Child,
At that Crossroad
There born the Light of Asia.
For Love and Life
The Great War begets the Nightingale.
Asked by the cynic Pollster
Does it a bonus by Mahatma
Or Nineteen Forty Seven is a nuisance for India?
How much who loved Humans
When the antique laughed at someone
Who did the fault,
Nothing counts for that Calculus.
The leaflets of the Epics
Be full of Glory of Loves
For the Earth.
No solace for us
Neither for our souls.
Veda Vyasa
No solace for you too.
There is no end to the Odyssey
No words portray our Agony,
Silver worms pass
Even through the Dead Rhapsody.
Still, is there any end? No End!
Till the Horizon
To this inert void of Sahara.
No End to our Voyaging!
The poet, Nabakanta
There is no frontier to our Journey.
The meadow to be grown on our Bones
Too will bring forth the fresh Globes.
If it be a Duryodhana
Some Krishna will come and cover
Gandhari’s insight for her Son,
To keep the promise of a fragile Arjuna.
From the bare bones of the Cities
There born Einstein, the violinist
And Newton, the lover of the Universe.
There born Hocking,
Hocking of our beginning
With motto-neuron and kaput physique.
From nowhere
There dawned the Time,
The time of our life
And of the World
With a Bang in the Void.
There is no surrogate for Strive
Memoirs have no price
Price only be for Life
In that moment of Bang,
The density of infinite.
Where ends every Biography
There starts the Rhapsody,
May be the Epic of the Deads;
Yet there dawns the Time
Of some letdown moments,
Light be the final frontier of darkness.
Over the Door
Beside the Window
Dressing in an over-coat till the toe;
There waits our Brahma,
With a mask too
Our eternal Brahma forever……………
How antique be the History
How many Eons gone by,
Leaflet of each is a Rhapsody;
Manuscript of the Epic of the Deads.
Then
That primitive mother on Earth,
The ancient woman of Stories,
That Sita…………..
Reborn again and again
Confining in the Garden of Glories
Of the Ravana and the Rama.
Rhapsody of ours
Spreads so vast
From Railway Station to Footpath,
From Slushy Avenues to Jatayu’s Dockyard.
Eunuch Brihannala be our Arjuna,
Our forebear is the unsighted Dhritarashtra.
Ramachandra of ours
Never reads Divine Comedy,
In front of us
Been raped upon the footpath
The menstruating Draupadi.
Have no Krishna for us.
He is stale, the Patriarch Bhishma
Buried in the Graveyard of Grain,
Inert like the Tree of Night.
These stolid Woods of Night
Carry the future of our Cities,
The carcass of Mahenjo-daro.
Every child to be born of us
Will be the voyagers
Of Tragic Karns’s inflamed path.
The old game is on
To fill the Vacuum Script
Again by void;
Some dots, white and black
Of love for the life.
Yet
Amid the Epic of the Deads
There be an episode of living grace.
There born our Mother, the Teresa
There born the Mary’s Child,
At that Crossroad
There born the Light of Asia.
For Love and Life
The Great War begets the Nightingale.
Asked by the cynic Pollster
Does it a bonus by Mahatma
Or Nineteen Forty Seven is a nuisance for India?
How much who loved Humans
When the antique laughed at someone
Who did the fault,
Nothing counts for that Calculus.
The leaflets of the Epics
Be full of Glory of Loves
For the Earth.
No solace for us
Neither for our souls.
Veda Vyasa
No solace for you too.
There is no end to the Odyssey
No words portray our Agony,
Silver worms pass
Even through the Dead Rhapsody.
Still, is there any end? No End!
Till the Horizon
To this inert void of Sahara.
No End to our Voyaging!
The poet, Nabakanta
There is no frontier to our Journey.
The meadow to be grown on our Bones
Too will bring forth the fresh Globes.
If it be a Duryodhana
Some Krishna will come and cover
Gandhari’s insight for her Son,
To keep the promise of a fragile Arjuna.
From the bare bones of the Cities
There born Einstein, the violinist
And Newton, the lover of the Universe.
There born Hocking,
Hocking of our beginning
With motto-neuron and kaput physique.
From nowhere
There dawned the Time,
The time of our life
And of the World
With a Bang in the Void.
There is no surrogate for Strive
Memoirs have no price
Price only be for Life
In that moment of Bang,
The density of infinite.
Where ends every Biography
There starts the Rhapsody,
May be the Epic of the Deads;
Yet there dawns the Time
Of some letdown moments,
Light be the final frontier of darkness.
Over the Door
Beside the Window
Dressing in an over-coat till the toe;
There waits our Brahma,
With a mask too
Our eternal Brahma forever……………
The World of Relics
We live in a World of Relics,
Open are the Doors
All for Megacosm;
Inside are the residue and smokes.
Always follow us
The borrowed Nightmares,
We love to forget the Histories,
Love to slay the Cities.
Every day of the year
We raze one Hiroshima
Every night
We bulldoze one Nagasaki,
We don’t endure
A common known Sky.
We live in this World of Relics,
The Magma of Vengeance
Emanating from the ruins
Of the Ancient Cities
Make us Lunatics.
We love the Cannon
The shade of red blood
Famed our infamous Horizon;
Always we love to dig Graveyard.
The Ahimsa, lay to rest each day,
The Humanity, each night we slay.
Forsooth,
Be each of us a Relic here.
Our hearts,
We vend and buy
In exchange of Blood.
The City of Death,
Herein we live.
Be alive also the life……...
Open are the Doors
All for Megacosm;
Inside are the residue and smokes.
Always follow us
The borrowed Nightmares,
We love to forget the Histories,
Love to slay the Cities.
Every day of the year
We raze one Hiroshima
Every night
We bulldoze one Nagasaki,
We don’t endure
A common known Sky.
We live in this World of Relics,
The Magma of Vengeance
Emanating from the ruins
Of the Ancient Cities
Make us Lunatics.
We love the Cannon
The shade of red blood
Famed our infamous Horizon;
Always we love to dig Graveyard.
The Ahimsa, lay to rest each day,
The Humanity, each night we slay.
Forsooth,
Be each of us a Relic here.
Our hearts,
We vend and buy
In exchange of Blood.
The City of Death,
Herein we live.
Be alive also the life……...
ID of a Corpse
After breathing my last
In the Suburb of the Cadavers
I went to the Churchyard
To look for the Artisan
Who could portray an Epitaph.
I screamed for his whereabouts
And a wondering corpse pointed
Towards a one-off Pigeonhole
In the God’s acre.
How assiduous he was
With his hammers and chisels,
So scrawny, so skinny
Like a Carcass.
With his scattering Ribs
And the ghastly Laughter
He asked
(Either he saw me or heard)
Whether
I was a Hindu
Or a Mohammedan,
A Buddhist or a Jain,
A Sikh or was a Christian;
Whether
At the Dawn of my Death
Koran was chanted
Or the Gita,
Or was I adorned by a Cross.
I replied with my ID
“Forsooth,
I am only a Corpse
That too decaying…..”
Artisan ruptured into laughter,
Flashed into a pause
While asked for the reason,
And replied……..
Who could name a cadaver
Only a Corpse,
He remained no more a Corpse.
I searched for myself and found
I didn’t die yet………….
In the Suburb of the Cadavers
I went to the Churchyard
To look for the Artisan
Who could portray an Epitaph.
I screamed for his whereabouts
And a wondering corpse pointed
Towards a one-off Pigeonhole
In the God’s acre.
How assiduous he was
With his hammers and chisels,
So scrawny, so skinny
Like a Carcass.
With his scattering Ribs
And the ghastly Laughter
He asked
(Either he saw me or heard)
Whether
I was a Hindu
Or a Mohammedan,
A Buddhist or a Jain,
A Sikh or was a Christian;
Whether
At the Dawn of my Death
Koran was chanted
Or the Gita,
Or was I adorned by a Cross.
I replied with my ID
“Forsooth,
I am only a Corpse
That too decaying…..”
Artisan ruptured into laughter,
Flashed into a pause
While asked for the reason,
And replied……..
Who could name a cadaver
Only a Corpse,
He remained no more a Corpse.
I searched for myself and found
I didn’t die yet………….
The Man
1
Quest of the Eons in my bones
And through my souls,
And I hark to that vainglory
Always in my nerves;
As I am the Man,
The first seed of human
Springs from my sperm.
Lost in that vainglory
All my horizons…….
Limited they are,
Banks are there
Even for the whopping sea;
Still I thought me as amaranthine ocean,
As the marrow surrounding every terrene.
End of my valor there,
I confine at that point.
And there begins the self, Own!
Because I am the Man,
The semblance of Frankenstein
And my own Being.
Thus
I am the Manus of Indus,
I am the Prophets of Desert,
The self-claimed journalist of the Times
Or the scribbler of the Eras.
Thus
I am the Kansh of Mathura
The slayer of my sister’s Flora;
As I am stingy
I am greedy,
Crossing the rim of love and mercy
I seek verve in the Blood,
That of those rosy Buds.
Time and again time edify,
I sense the lessons of boon and strain
Or I discern the Black-Hole of Power;
My father caged there,
I owe to that blood of my brother.
They are
May be Ugrasen,
May be Bimbisar
Or the captive Sahjahan.
As
I am the begetter
I am also the bulldozer.
I am Aurangjib,
I am Ajata Satru;
Because I am the Man,
The semblance of Frankenstein
And my own Being.
Thus
I am the Rama
I am the Yudhisthira,
To call for my Glory
I forfeit…..I forfeit
The Sitas and the Draupadis
In the flames of agony
Or in the arena of gaming.
2
Where ends man’s Valor
There rouses the Femininity;
Drubbing that delicacy
I build the hocus-pocus Fraternity.
Because I am fragile,
I am in style.
I am the self-claimed Monarchy.
I cage in the Turret of my own Glory
In the hands of self trickery.
There not the Light of Insight,
Only is the Black-Hole of Malady.
Still
Eon after Eon
I am the Man,
Dense and Callous;
Still
There is Love,
There is Plea;
But also there may be
The alluring Lechery.
Hence
I am the Nero,
I am the Cupid of Avidity.
But yet
I am the Krishna;
There is no yearn,
Nor desire.
Only are revered Love
And the long road of Sojourn.
Because I am the Man,
The semblance of Frankenstein
And my own Being.
Though myriads of Woman
Sensed the Shadowy of Man,
Though in every part of Narration
The vainglory of Man
Begets thousands of Dead Sun
No Skies who all have;
Still there are men
For the love of women.
Still there are men
For incessant poems.
Or there are men
For platonic loves.
Qualm is there,
But it is the truth.
True, such women are there.
(Those quest for love)
So true are those men,
They can’t be veiled
By the hazy Azure.
Today
I unearth the trickery
Of those men,
Ancient and elderly.
Adam explored the Knowledge Tree
The alleged Sin incited by Eve;
Telling that old tale
The Manus bygone,
And the Prophets
And the Clerks of Cyclic Return
Crowned all the Woman,
The vehemence of the Man
As the Second Class of Human.
So today
I protest
All those Partisan;
I protest
All the Man-made Decorum,
The harms did by the Male to the Man.
Humans, are the Men
In so far as the Women;
There are fiends in Man
So there are in Woman.
Yet not men are
The gods of all Viles
As women are not
The goddesses of all Wiles.
3
I am the Man
Thus the Lover.
I too wish
To floor the Gateway of Life
By the doting Olive Layer.
Amid that
There is the feeling
There is the intricacy
Of longing for intimacy.
And there are
Wax and wane,
The ripples of Life.
Those are the verses
No tune can harmonize.
Once if I come across to Freud
I will query
What is to be a Man,
How much is the twinge;
Is it in so far as
Seeking the Ecstasy beyond happiness.
The respond I know
There won’t be any,
As the unsolicited answer
Itself is my query.
There is Woman
So there be
The Love of Man.
As I am the Man,
I profess amid Glory
With my composite Sagacity,
That
All the doors of Acumen
May not be open
Even today for the Men.
Yet
Alike the inward Woman
Be the inside of Man.
In the pastime of partition
The Male overcame the Man.
Insolence to the Woman
Makes the Man a Selfish Shell.
There is no Flee
No mercy for those ever Dead Men.
Thus I say
I am the Man
The primordial image of Melancholy,
Qualm follows me forever
Each step there is Hell-fire
I am the Surname of Agony.
Freedom, if there be any
From that agony
For the Man;
Only it be
Through the love of Woman.
That Woman has no Physique
Nor that Man is a Cupid.
Yet
Amid the tiny calculations of life
Masking by all Wiles,
The Man and the Woman
Are the two Parallels.
Banks of the same Gloomy River,
Have alike Hazy Azure.
There is no Freud,
Lone be the Ceaseless Sojourn.
Quest of the Eons in my bones
And through my souls,
And I hark to that vainglory
Always in my nerves;
As I am the Man,
The first seed of human
Springs from my sperm.
Lost in that vainglory
All my horizons…….
Limited they are,
Banks are there
Even for the whopping sea;
Still I thought me as amaranthine ocean,
As the marrow surrounding every terrene.
End of my valor there,
I confine at that point.
And there begins the self, Own!
Because I am the Man,
The semblance of Frankenstein
And my own Being.
Thus
I am the Manus of Indus,
I am the Prophets of Desert,
The self-claimed journalist of the Times
Or the scribbler of the Eras.
Thus
I am the Kansh of Mathura
The slayer of my sister’s Flora;
As I am stingy
I am greedy,
Crossing the rim of love and mercy
I seek verve in the Blood,
That of those rosy Buds.
Time and again time edify,
I sense the lessons of boon and strain
Or I discern the Black-Hole of Power;
My father caged there,
I owe to that blood of my brother.
They are
May be Ugrasen,
May be Bimbisar
Or the captive Sahjahan.
As
I am the begetter
I am also the bulldozer.
I am Aurangjib,
I am Ajata Satru;
Because I am the Man,
The semblance of Frankenstein
And my own Being.
Thus
I am the Rama
I am the Yudhisthira,
To call for my Glory
I forfeit…..I forfeit
The Sitas and the Draupadis
In the flames of agony
Or in the arena of gaming.
2
Where ends man’s Valor
There rouses the Femininity;
Drubbing that delicacy
I build the hocus-pocus Fraternity.
Because I am fragile,
I am in style.
I am the self-claimed Monarchy.
I cage in the Turret of my own Glory
In the hands of self trickery.
There not the Light of Insight,
Only is the Black-Hole of Malady.
Still
Eon after Eon
I am the Man,
Dense and Callous;
Still
There is Love,
There is Plea;
But also there may be
The alluring Lechery.
Hence
I am the Nero,
I am the Cupid of Avidity.
But yet
I am the Krishna;
There is no yearn,
Nor desire.
Only are revered Love
And the long road of Sojourn.
Because I am the Man,
The semblance of Frankenstein
And my own Being.
Though myriads of Woman
Sensed the Shadowy of Man,
Though in every part of Narration
The vainglory of Man
Begets thousands of Dead Sun
No Skies who all have;
Still there are men
For the love of women.
Still there are men
For incessant poems.
Or there are men
For platonic loves.
Qualm is there,
But it is the truth.
True, such women are there.
(Those quest for love)
So true are those men,
They can’t be veiled
By the hazy Azure.
Today
I unearth the trickery
Of those men,
Ancient and elderly.
Adam explored the Knowledge Tree
The alleged Sin incited by Eve;
Telling that old tale
The Manus bygone,
And the Prophets
And the Clerks of Cyclic Return
Crowned all the Woman,
The vehemence of the Man
As the Second Class of Human.
So today
I protest
All those Partisan;
I protest
All the Man-made Decorum,
The harms did by the Male to the Man.
Humans, are the Men
In so far as the Women;
There are fiends in Man
So there are in Woman.
Yet not men are
The gods of all Viles
As women are not
The goddesses of all Wiles.
3
I am the Man
Thus the Lover.
I too wish
To floor the Gateway of Life
By the doting Olive Layer.
Amid that
There is the feeling
There is the intricacy
Of longing for intimacy.
And there are
Wax and wane,
The ripples of Life.
Those are the verses
No tune can harmonize.
Once if I come across to Freud
I will query
What is to be a Man,
How much is the twinge;
Is it in so far as
Seeking the Ecstasy beyond happiness.
The respond I know
There won’t be any,
As the unsolicited answer
Itself is my query.
There is Woman
So there be
The Love of Man.
As I am the Man,
I profess amid Glory
With my composite Sagacity,
That
All the doors of Acumen
May not be open
Even today for the Men.
Yet
Alike the inward Woman
Be the inside of Man.
In the pastime of partition
The Male overcame the Man.
Insolence to the Woman
Makes the Man a Selfish Shell.
There is no Flee
No mercy for those ever Dead Men.
Thus I say
I am the Man
The primordial image of Melancholy,
Qualm follows me forever
Each step there is Hell-fire
I am the Surname of Agony.
Freedom, if there be any
From that agony
For the Man;
Only it be
Through the love of Woman.
That Woman has no Physique
Nor that Man is a Cupid.
Yet
Amid the tiny calculations of life
Masking by all Wiles,
The Man and the Woman
Are the two Parallels.
Banks of the same Gloomy River,
Have alike Hazy Azure.
There is no Freud,
Lone be the Ceaseless Sojourn.
Bohemian Bonhomie
Let there be light
At the end of each fairytale,
Let there be love
To act as the sojourn for each life.
At the rat-race of surviving
Let nobody miss to live,
In search of their destiny
Let nobody forget how to let live.
Isn’t that the heaven we desire,
Isn’t that the beauty of life
We look for;
This is the earth enough for us
Let us endure a common known Azure.
Blame me not, O’ earth
If you find me a Bohemian.
It is just that I dream
Always of love
And you all live my dreams
Deep inside your hearts.
At the end of each fairytale,
Let there be love
To act as the sojourn for each life.
At the rat-race of surviving
Let nobody miss to live,
In search of their destiny
Let nobody forget how to let live.
Isn’t that the heaven we desire,
Isn’t that the beauty of life
We look for;
This is the earth enough for us
Let us endure a common known Azure.
Blame me not, O’ earth
If you find me a Bohemian.
It is just that I dream
Always of love
And you all live my dreams
Deep inside your hearts.
Loneliness: The Only Dream I chase
I love my loneliness
The only dream I chase
Way ahead is my destiny
And still I am loving my journey
All these days I dream to walk at the side of you
But I walk a street not known to you
So I am loving my loneliness
The only dream I can chase
Like two banks of the same river
We are walking together
We neither meet nor go apart
And I shall love you forever
As I love my loneliness
The only dream that I chase
I hope someday one lonely evening
Your street will be mine
Till then I shall love my loneliness
Way ahead is my destiny
And I shall never stop my journey
Coz I shall love you forever
As I love my loneliness
The only dream that I chase
The only dream I chase
Way ahead is my destiny
And still I am loving my journey
All these days I dream to walk at the side of you
But I walk a street not known to you
So I am loving my loneliness
The only dream I can chase
Like two banks of the same river
We are walking together
We neither meet nor go apart
And I shall love you forever
As I love my loneliness
The only dream that I chase
I hope someday one lonely evening
Your street will be mine
Till then I shall love my loneliness
Way ahead is my destiny
And I shall never stop my journey
Coz I shall love you forever
As I love my loneliness
The only dream that I chase
A Winter Poem
Mornings are so hazy
As the lazy clouds hung over the city;
Beneath a blanket of Love
May each of you sleep,
But you have promises to keep
Before you sleep.
So though the mornings are lazy
Sun is smiling taking away the mist,
Yet sometime we all wish
May the lazy clouds never leave the sky.
As the lazy clouds hung over the city;
Beneath a blanket of Love
May each of you sleep,
But you have promises to keep
Before you sleep.
So though the mornings are lazy
Sun is smiling taking away the mist,
Yet sometime we all wish
May the lazy clouds never leave the sky.
The Lost Horizon
Most love lost in the outcry of past
Some love lost in the bedtime of lust
And we whine, no time to love
As we search for the Class
Amidst many calculus
We become wise not to be easy
To show the world, we are how busy
And we whine, no time to see
The Rainbow after rains
So tired are our brains
Yet we like to be loved
Amidst the woods of the concretes
But what is of Sun without shine
And the lives without life
And we whine, no time to feel
The beauty of the valley
We are stuck in a Tally
And we whine, we whine
Until we die.
Some love lost in the bedtime of lust
And we whine, no time to love
As we search for the Class
Amidst many calculus
We become wise not to be easy
To show the world, we are how busy
And we whine, no time to see
The Rainbow after rains
So tired are our brains
Yet we like to be loved
Amidst the woods of the concretes
But what is of Sun without shine
And the lives without life
And we whine, no time to feel
The beauty of the valley
We are stuck in a Tally
And we whine, we whine
Until we die.
The Rainbow
All days there is no Sunshine
Neither we have ceaseless Rain
As like life sky amends
As if it is a design
To call all the colors in line.
That is the beauty of the Rainbow
We wait and wait
To have a little glance,
When the normal blue sky
Turns black & white
After an hour's Rain.
Some can see
And the ones who can't
Always wait until they die.
The life lives
Amid that shadow and light,
Amid sunshine and the hazy sky.
Between that
Be there the Rainbow moments
Which make the life
Shine like a Smile.
Neither we have ceaseless Rain
As like life sky amends
As if it is a design
To call all the colors in line.
That is the beauty of the Rainbow
We wait and wait
To have a little glance,
When the normal blue sky
Turns black & white
After an hour's Rain.
Some can see
And the ones who can't
Always wait until they die.
The life lives
Amid that shadow and light,
Amid sunshine and the hazy sky.
Between that
Be there the Rainbow moments
Which make the life
Shine like a Smile.
Pirates of the Hearts
Sail on my Pirates,
Pirates of the hearts
Sail on!
Sleep only if you are dead.
There were many like you
Whose name dwindled away
From the sand of time,
Still sail on
As that is the only way
You all know,
All pirates of the hearts.
You have no return way
As you have a single vision
To sail on and on
Till the end of humanity
Till the end of eternity.
It is the fools who wait
As you say,
I say them as simple souls.
Is there an end to this impasse?
I doubt there will be any;
As you say
You are achievers,
I say
You all are Pirates of the Hearts!
Pirates of the hearts
Sail on!
Sleep only if you are dead.
There were many like you
Whose name dwindled away
From the sand of time,
Still sail on
As that is the only way
You all know,
All pirates of the hearts.
You have no return way
As you have a single vision
To sail on and on
Till the end of humanity
Till the end of eternity.
It is the fools who wait
As you say,
I say them as simple souls.
Is there an end to this impasse?
I doubt there will be any;
As you say
You are achievers,
I say
You all are Pirates of the Hearts!
November - 2011
Never wake me up in such a November
When in the first week
My motherland lost her voice and the songs
And in the last week again
She lost her smile and the words.
Never wake me up in such a November
When tears too find it hard to come
Same even for the Old River
The lovers of humanity leave us together
And the void is so vast to cover.
If at all you wake me up in such a November
Give my motherland the courage forever
To dream a valley as of those dreamers’
To be the one to watch by the world
As described in their lyrics and words.
Let the soul of each man touch the other’s
Let all the bloodshed be put to rest
As they always told us to build a love-nest
Oh the time if you foresee this future
Then only you wake me up in such a November.
When in the first week
My motherland lost her voice and the songs
And in the last week again
She lost her smile and the words.
Never wake me up in such a November
When tears too find it hard to come
Same even for the Old River
The lovers of humanity leave us together
And the void is so vast to cover.
If at all you wake me up in such a November
Give my motherland the courage forever
To dream a valley as of those dreamers’
To be the one to watch by the world
As described in their lyrics and words.
Let the soul of each man touch the other’s
Let all the bloodshed be put to rest
As they always told us to build a love-nest
Oh the time if you foresee this future
Then only you wake me up in such a November.
Ode to a Smile
My friend is so bright
She never needs light,
She can light up every weary life
As she has the sweetest smile.
May her smile never dwindle,
Because even thousands of splendid suns
Won’t be able to bring back that shine,
Once it’s gone.
If life is an ordeal of rain and storm
Her smile is a sojourn,
That’s like a rainbow
While chasing that far away horizon.
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