Happy Prince

I was not alone a minute ago, 
This sudden gusts of wind
Have made the season really sick in Autumn. 


Yes, I was not lonely, 
Because the sparrows chirped and were gay, 
The ducked played and waves swayed 
Until it conspired - 
And made them flew back to their homes. 


Here, I create ripples in Time, smiling at my loss,
Harsh judgements passed and silences unrhymed
make me desperate though -
To ask questions to 
-All the wise and Old.


I flutter my wings once again, 
Near the lamp post,
 To find - MY HAPPY PRINCE!

Consciousness

Time has spiral shutters

They flap and I see it moving.

There is somebody I point to,

But I do not see.

It flaps violently, I see

It becomes a compass-

As I step ahead, it stops and slowly, opens like petals.

Quickly I turn back-

Now, I can see that ‘Somebody’.

See Off

They said, It was the final call

 I knew that the train would, soon, depart.

And would leave only an echo...

What else!

Among the strangers, a deserted platform

And choice of a track to follow!

A Mother Again

Long Nights, restless minds 

With nightmares and tremors,

Unraveling a new undercurrent of time 

She often wakes up suddenly - 

   With a sweaty countenance.

What has passed - what remains 

Her lips could hardly translate 

Her long deserted look - 

Watches  her ships in the sea Almighty ! 

And I,in my dream, 

            watch sea-tide on the prow of Noah's Ship. 

Sweet voice, they buried under their feet

Living with her silence and bleeds 

This frost kills us by and by 

Her face whom doves bowed down 

    - a deep pallor been crowned. 

With limps of her life - 

They are playing chess

 She, a real queen, at the hands of 

Notorious pawns, is it less? 

She fades into Holy realm of faith 

And I, in my dream, 

              Cross seven channels on Iron. 

Oh Time ! Give space for a new rhyme - 

Waiting For a power benign !  

Untitled

 Black out - 
And  he became all aware of it. 
In delirium,binging on thoughts 
Something pinned him down
and put around  
           A sense of blah...


He doesn't  lament 
As he had himself,
           with a deft stroke of words, 
 Slaughtered a dream 
which was killing from inside.


yet can't  deny - 
That he feels himself to be rooted out
From his depth of piousness and his dream sublime. 

Now, fake promises wait for him at the gate-
and  tease him out of his fate...
     They follow even to the kitchen. They shout.
  They sit on the shelf - 
When he cooks , he reads,or he groans.


Nowadays, he skimps- 
Sometimes, moseying back to the park 
Just at one corner he sits and watch- 
Children Playing and elders talk.
( But ponders over things he loved and lost so far...)


He knows it well,
It is a crick in life.
Maybe, a tenacle of some insanity divine.
Maybe, an ebb - a temporarily defaced life!
O these poor translations of what he feels!!


He had read the signpost a long time ago,
Directions vague and ground so low...
But he had not imagined that he would quit 
And go divorced even from himself !

An Interior Monologue

I wish I could tell

How hard it was to break

Soft feeling of your pearly presence

And to spill the vermin of distance

Bred out of necessity.

Though life moves on -

But sometimes, I have felt

A sweet twinge of separation bearing hard on me

To dip me into all regrets

That why I refuted a new meaning

Sprouting itself out

In the old deserts of propriety

While sitting here - Just longing

I can see you, blowing -

On the mighty currents of deep oceans

Where you can't see me hiding myself

Under the sordid surface as if

- Scared of an exotic deity.

I wish I could tell - that

Sometimes under the compulsion of clock

How every moment and every word,

Forgetting its character, comes out of lips and

Becomes stranger even to the heart itself.

How would you believe now?

Under its brashing self, was

Crawling scalded beauty!

My charred feathers, covered under

Slender smile - even then

When I assayed to fly

Heaved two deep sobs in you palm

Though constantly under some star blithe.

You drew upon me Yes!

Once I too was a flower

This solicitude melted the garb

Hence the rush of feelings...

Your Honor! from every peel of my heart

I tried to keep me at par

From various meanings of Red-

As you didn't know -

I dread -

…Basking in the sun

…Being loved by someone.

What's it ?

What's It?

When I recall -

I regret why I recall

When I try to forget -

I regret- I can't forget.

Nostalgic face !

Engrossed - back on old roads

Or In Astro-projection

Catching a star, feeling the other self

I watch from the far -

Unbearable!

Sometimes it seems, Seems a dull bay.

Never cleaned, never traveled again

As if a lake - still waters

a forgotten face...

The Tower Of Babel

I have words that mean nothing to them
They have sweet sounds,I understand not.
Something is slipping underneath - "Oh!Our Feet -"
And heavey lash of wind and rain from above
Yes,I am one among this human lot.


They are Others who were on the Ship
Their eyes being turned inside -
"Is there anyone Listening to me?"
"What is scratching my back?"
"Oh mind! Unbearable !!"


Flood divided us.By chance are divided
As identified and unidentified, here!
We are all unidentified
All are Unidentified.
Is the ship Empty ?


This thunder and contaminated sky -
Are we dying or left behind ?
....again clutch at the Tower side,
Like Mulching leaves,abusing
Vacuumed words - meaning denied.


Among us attack
Among us die ; Among try to decode
and send proofs; among us allege and denied
Yet we don't understand what we do
we are a game or a part of game
                    ...I don't know.


This little device in our hands
Connects us to our small gods
A voice from it says -
"Sweet was the rose - I know,
But try to understand ...
No No...I ..never ...just ...Oh No !!"


You know ! Once I walked alone in the garden
Some voice made me look back
No One -
Certainly none was there.
But said my own self -
"It was I to befool you,Fool !"


It was erected to save -
Or to be saved,THe Flood will decide.
What I know is -
"Oh don't touch me, small man !"
"You are dirty!"




Have they gone ?
Far ! out of sight !!
MInd cleaves through darkness
But still reaches nowhere
A breach at heart ...
"Is there anyone listening to me ?
To bring me inside...
Oh ! I am Cursed !"


Aye !
We are not Oedipus metamorphosed and Blind -
Groping for a place unknown
And Compromising between Heaven and Hell!
Paradise is lost forever -
Hell dwells in our minds
And eternally we are here-
             With our Tower of Babel.

To God

Under the monochromic life,
Fluttering wings of unpenned thoughts
Lost most of their feathers.
And now crawls bare skinny shade of morbid ugliness.


How many times, I wept , I cried
Well, with gusts of wind, all dried
Leaving my eyes swelled up and with screwed up face, tried
To enjoy and play the game of fuzziness.


How many times, I enjoyed the perplexities -
With patience
Living upon them, watched myself
Sinking like a mighty ship
Never to be found again.
Or waiting
Outside your realm
Ready to bow, waiting for a glimpse..!!!


Do you know, under this monochromic life?
I always waited long
For your presence?
-Cherishing your thoughts and
Caressing my pinions?
I had never thought or imagined
There would be a Time in my life
When I would meet you-
Would see eye to eye and engrossed
Only to awake alone ! alone ! forlorn !!


I need your solicitude
Yes I do -
But I would never come to you
You know !
I have lost my pinions
Once caressed by me for You…
I have lost my kite
Never to be found in the wilderness below...

Mind

It flickers- 
Dissolves all the world into water 
And makes salt in the sun.


It flickers- 
Meets its aged spirit of understanding 
Long ago! abondoned or suspended in the vacuum.


It flickers-
Finds the king Fisher, still, fishing
and repenting over his loss of virility.


It flickers -
Makes all Philosophies its mistresses
And ravishes them one by one..


When it does not flicker 
It remains dissolved in myths and illusions ...

Excerpt From the poem " THE TOWER OF BABEL"

This thunder and contaminated sky-
Are we dying or left behind?
...Again clutch at the towerside
Like mulching leaves,Abusing
Vacuumed words- meaning denied.
              ****
Among us attack,
Among us die, Among us try to decode
And send proofs,Among us allege and deny.
Yet, We don't understand what we do
We are a game or a part of game
                    ...I don't know!
              ****
You know ! once I walked alone in the garden
Some Voice made me turn back
No one -
Certainly none was there.
But said my own self -
"It was I to befool you, fool!"
           ****

MODERN HAMLET -THE LAST PHASE

This evening longs to meet me.
In her dusky countenance,
Conceals a maelstrom of my own darkness.
And I, a docile child, spreading arms,
Hoping to survive or metamorphosed.


Hazardous journey now
Palpitates me not-
What havoc the roaring store in?
I've given no thought.


How many centuries have died undone?
My procrastination 
Even to take a barbiturate
-To have a wink; thinking,
This sixty - watt bulb or electric tube
May not get fused.
(I checked everything meticulously.)


How many centuries have died undone?
While listening to the music,
With tears in eyes -
Fighting some imaginative battles of life,
The pillow under the head
Gets wet..and a dream, after defeating me,
To other world of impossible, flies.


I was to lock the Pandora Box.
Only didn't know its place…
but every room and every corner had a sunlit sky
Then it opened my third eye
And you know !!!
'Every sun has to die !'
Why not to put out this light
And to see myself in centre of my own light…


Thus, I've reached the box.


It's therefore, I say -
Time always chased me
Barefeet and bareheaded
Only this time arrested… after a long strife.
To be ready and waiting with open arms
Hoping to survive or metamorphosed or de-armed.


For death ,I care not
It will die if I do
It will never die …if I'm undone.

The Red Deeps

(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 alone

Longing for Maggie's side

In Red Deeps,where limps

Had made a bed for autumn

Embarks a journey for tears ...

Your pure eyes, frustrated

By the loss of "single chance of happiness"

when rise to watch two birds singing

Just above the head-branch

I learnt -

the Power of the Moments

Their Might and before them

A meek, timid , and prone I.

Yeah philips! I can't see any deformity

In your poetic look

- In your unsaid words

Which always struggled,with palpitations

Victoriously asserted themselves

In the rudeness of Time.

I'm not shocked at all

To see myself in Red Deeps

Following an old philosophy -

Longings can never be brushed aside -

Which was some day, strangled, I found, Could never die

But became an Oasis of Life.

The Rock

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.

Breeze

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-

Dumb struck

With a bleak hope to see it blowing again...

An Expression

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.

Quartets

How difficult is the word "Acceptance"
And let a long cherished dream whiz past you
when the things we suppose,define us
Those things the same,we have to throw...

Smashed into pieces,my looking pane
Showed the thousand aspects of
My countenance,Had it been a whole lot
The same side would have been shown again...

Loving eyes and the touch of the warmth 
Mesmerized mind when lost that state
Nothing could she utter when in dream
When she woke, she had nothing to say...


Loss gain, separation and pain-
Names of tychoons and dusty winds here
when they blow, they hurt; when they go, they hurt
But create beautiful ripples in the bay... 

NEUROTIC CITY

The city dwells in extremes
No thoroughfare-everything is in neurosis,
Lying flat with the burden
Of past glorious dreams on the back.

My Imagination
tries to ascent-
Rocks of horrible ugliness,deformed present
Above the slums and dark hearts.
No Star,Moon,or Aura of Divinity
Inspires;but only satellites
Launched by my own conscience...

Keats's Nightingale might have died issueless
You know! here 's problem of upbringing.
Small lives with big mouths
Never let the city sleep and -
At one corner of bus stand or railway station
The abandoned cries-Good feast for the city hounds.

Thousand eyes of the city but never twinkle at night
'Shaking legs' at a club...red chums
Creep and crawl in the dark.
(matchless! white collar!! cool! Reputed men in the morning )

And fatigued -
My Imagination screams and falls
Into my own hands...Unconscious.

SACRIFICE

Lo Alexander! Destiny is so near.
Single step of valor when put
A thousand unborn epochs will scatter your fear.
These pearly mountains of wondrous hazard
-Obdurate time all over the earth
-Unfailing prudence of an eagle and
-humbleness of hay-born deities,
-The roaring mouth of the thunder
And silvery lines throughout the sky
Will oblige you to take the seat
In the hearts of Generations-
Wombed or still unwombed!

so…
Be ready Bucephalus* !...for the sacrifice.

*Bucephalus was Alexander's favorite horse

MISJUDGED

In the enveloping fire of vengeance
We often torture ourselves, when
Blood shows an ugly face masked,
In the worst time of an year.

With this nostalgic face-
While walking alone, with thousand debates
-Glimpses of the suffered past,
-Ramifications of this undesirably wombed Present;
or all this ‘heavy chamber’ pines for...
He feels shattered and then entrapped
by palpitations and high blood pressure.

Then-in the morphemed night
or at the demise of a dream or something past-
Recalls- Who said what? When? and Why?
A drop silently flows through the edges of eyes,
And something grabs by the throat from Inside.

Fixing sight in the dark-
(With low pump at the heart)
He passes the other Half-
. ..In thoughts and strife.