(A grove where Philips and Maggie used to meet)Mill on the Floss
Why men mummify their past ?Build mausoleums in their minds and heart ?Why they nurture the ashes of time?And always breathe hard and fast ??... I was yet to learn.
Your presence, always aloneLonging for Maggie's sideIn Red Deeps,where limpsHad made a bed for autumnEmbarks a journey for tears ...
Your pure eyes, frustratedBy the loss of "single chance of happiness"when rise to watch two birds singingJust above the head-branchI learnt -the Power of the MomentsTheir Might and before themA meek, timid , and prone I.
Yeah philips! I can't see any deformityIn your poetic look- In your unsaid wordsWhich always struggled,with palpitationsVictoriously asserted themselvesIn the rudeness of Time.
I'm not shocked at allTo see myself in Red DeepsFollowing an old philosophy -
Longings can never be brushed aside -Which was some day, strangled, I found, Could never dieBut became an Oasis of Life.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Then, the dusk set in-
And the golden Disk disappeared
To the other side of the rock
And he, still hanging,
Kept on thinking about his existence
What had there been, which he might have lost ?
Here, many a sun wasted and many a moon spoilt
Until now, he never saw himself at things
Which made love die in the lover's very eyes.
This rock never held him in promise
But his heart said all otherwise.
Was that mere a passion-
Why was then his eyes wet and soul so bright?
Every jerk now and then,
Writing a new expression-
Garbled his sense of doing and being.
Questioning seeking, sometimes retiring -
Desperate for even a little niche.
And he recalled- a Battle field
A vast armada of tragic flaws and total black out
Reluctant Hamlet -Hesitant Arjuna
Both in need of a walking stick.
Then the call-"Arjuna! Don't live for the End."
"You can't live upto the End."
He found himself at peace
Perplexities- ruffles of the disturbed mind
Chinks and crumbles falling of rock on his being
Looked like Rain drops in the poor man's field.
Thus, he was hanging-
He dared not look below
(for it, he had lost the sense of belonging. )
He was not feeling like looking above
(for,he simply could not imagine.)
He was feeling the rock
Was it love? - the question lost its meaning
Now,his eyes were daubing every inch of the space in between...
He knew not what if conquered
As he could die too with a gust of wind
All expectations pruned - all questions dropped
He was in delirium or simply feeling at home.
It blowed once in life time
over the oases
over the crumbling walls once built by the heart-
over the iron roofs of the long cherished dream-
over the charred pages and sorrows just impaled...
It outwitted the squalls
Blessed to blow over as long as to sail-
And I was left-
With a bleak hope to see it blowing again...
I don't like suddenness
The awakening of a latent fire-
I fear to burn from.
When lava erupts-
(don't look at me standing aghast)
Below the volcano, I always bear it
As i can't move- being paralysed.
Haven't I said?
I have seen my own death-
Like Phoenix, always been reduced to ashes
Somehow recreate from devastedness
- A new way of life.
oh change! now welcome
To my igneous self.