A mere coincidence of looking into each other, can define a night full of stars. - Gautam Kumar
Before the early birds could sing a love song,
Collecting the monumental lure of her love,
He left her marooned in demise for long.
She, who weighs priceless in heavens,
Awaits in demise, disbelief, and fear.
Pierced into her heart, the brand of love,
Makes the night sob in delusional despair.
Babbling in the air, sorrow and tear.
The herd of bleeding memories,
raising above the clouds,
Wailing, in grief of the dear.
The bruised heart foresees a day,
a day of love which won’t tease,
and the heart will live,
not today but tomorrow
or maybe some other day.
Stuck within the walls of nonsense,
Stung by the venomous society,
Hiding scars of her heart, hopeless,
Gazes, the chopped wings of her.
The alluring blush has long gone,
Left is the flesh forlorn.
Deserted in the dust of humanity,
Burnt arms of Roses hurt.
Flowers in the garden of god,
the aesthetic, elegant mankind,
flourished from one to the other,
an infinity of beauteous nature.
Somewhere, bestrewed with heavy
Leaves of cruelty, sits some flowers,
Covered in Bosky roots of hunger
In the brume of misery,
they ask for nothing,
but a mere question
at odd time,
at odd place,
in odd conditions,
is this life is given or forgotten ?
This injustice of god still prevails,
they need much but never given,
How cruel of creation?
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,
Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday – or holinight
Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.
source: Poetry Foundation
Books in Focus
Two ends of a sphere,
Me and my Heart.
One lives with me,
to never found me again.
When I recall sometimes,
of my heart,
a fragrance of ‘Kasturi’ smells everywhere,
when couldn’t find it,
i sit in solace.
In the night,
when memories sears me apart,
i think of my heart.
A heart which could’ve been here now,
but it isn’t here.
Every thought of lost heart,
with the thoughts of her,
is like the mild wind of summers,
or, like a shade to me,
for I’ve been burning in the sun,
whole my life.
She wasn’t a part of me,
never she was.
I never loved her,
never did she.
I never asked her,
never she said.
She never left me,
never she did.
she stays in me,
and in my memory,
Like a masterpiece
of the time.
Kasturi – Meaning ‘Musk’ – Ornamentally “Smell rare to find”.
(To be continued…….)
Books in Focus
In the glare of little sunshine,
In blossoms of pink daffodils,
With buckets of happiness,
Presence is you.
in the first rain to the fists,
In the closed eyes of the nights,
It’s you – Seeking a heart,
to console, and to burn it.
in the slump of dreams,
In the wonders of rains,
With the brand of stare.
In the rivers of romance
dissolved is you.
for an ever, to a forever,
and never to be never,
Presence is you.
It’s you for a forever,
It’s always YOU.
These mountains, a solid architecture,
a life with the green canvas, all over it,
like a bold green flesh, raised by the sun,
the summers, winters and spring passing,
it stays still, never complaining, about anything.
In summers, Sun melts him, like fire vomiting dragon,
his little trees and plants die due to illness,
lack of water causes death to beloved animals,
he keeps mum, waiting for the spring.
Spring and rain, their arrival, bought in happiness,
a joy to the jungle, little animals get their veggies and water,
but never settled, they get lands slides, some trees die,
some animals die, the rain wipes out his tears,
waiting for winters, never complained.
Winters arrival, the blanket of huge snow,
the beauty tends to flow, from the bottom to the sky,
flawless and joyful, the earth becomes cold,
Small roots of small plants, can’t bear it,
Some homeless animals, buried inside the ice,
he cries and smiles,
but never complained.
Nurtured by nature, the strongest,
the wealthier mountain knows,
The beauty of life,
sun and moon, heat and cold,
life and death, death and life.