Thursday, September 30, 2010

VALLEY OF SONGS

In this world of pretence
give me not again a mask as my friend
when I surrender to your Flute
oh Lord of Vrindavan
as in my seashore I find a lot of sea shells
to take in hand and play
where I not wish to form a pyre
for my life on a hidden image
and my reflections I want to place
before a horizon of east
where I can light again a lamp
for your flute .......

Monday, September 27, 2010

IMAGES

Yes it is true!!
from that green valley
I have seen him killing sparrows and nightingales
in his brain cells sharp like a dagger
Behind tree branch shadows I watched his gaze
Pleasant.......
But I have seen him killing sparrows
and nightingales in one tangled net
And he walked back through a river slide
after the hunt
A duck there on his shoulder
Near the foothills he walked past
a flagpost and his own shadows….

Saturday, September 18, 2010

IMAGES

I know you want to go on flower roads of spring
and on your way I know
you want to throw a few branches
of thorn plants towards my ocean shores
as morse codes of revenge
Let me tell you
my earth has no time to walk
in your planetarium of thorns as a victim
or to be a convict in your museum of love
where you display
past, present and many futures, fortunes
in glass cases like a God of Planets
That game you played
Not once; several times
In adhesive tape bands
I don’t want to bind my earth
as a tied up fragment
there I prefer not add on ads
to glorify your reflection
or to glorify my fragment of earth
as I know you more
than what you know about me
and my heart is such that
it runs on a fluid called blood
and that flows not on your
knotted  brain maps.....

Saturday, September 11, 2010

STRANGER

Who stands there behind me
with an ink bottle of black
when I walk back to my monsoon
raindrops from summer hills of April
I know I lost my flower soft words
but I lost not  my monsoon
in words
Who stands there behind me
with a tree branch of shadows
when I walk back to my tiny
orange earth
far far away from islands of past
who stands there near my monsoon
like a stranger……

Friday, September 10, 2010

REAR STREAMS

Yes it is true
I thought that river would unplug
its hidden rear streams from my earthen
plateaus on the day it formed a base
and structure
far far away from the memory shores
of my south east ocean
but to my surprise
I find the same river
flowing down towards past
behind my earth
down from hills to the streams
unplugged….
honestly...
I don't know
WHY

Sunday, September 5, 2010

SEASON

When is the last time
I wrote a word like a song
and I think it is today
in this morning
when I walked past a river
and a few clouds
and on my way to a seaside
I find my flute from a valley
covered on fog
like in winter
where shadows danced
beneath mist
and that mist is vanished
in summer heat
and for all the summers to come
Beyond that my earth in orange
encounter not with any more shadows
as season changed
from summer to monsoon
like a song
RAINDROPS

Yes, it is true,
I got this passion
for poems certainly
and I love that passion
more than my life
like one ocean
that roars in and around me
from one tiny conch shell
and if a few ink drops
thicker than blood
frame a portrait in square box
sheet to disfigure my passion
to praise someone
who sells conscience
in open barters
I tell those ink marks
to continue,
continue to float
a river of effluents
as ink is not my medium
and I paint my passion
In raindrops
In oceans
In earthen dreams.....

Saturday, September 4, 2010

RAINDROPS

There is a dream in me
like a flower blossomed
in one monsoon rain
and in raindrops
I walk back to my village
home, to my origin
in earthen fragrance
and the only treasure
I lost not and with me
is my pure conscience
on which I place
all my dreams
and in fragment
of  my orange earth
I carry my monsoon
rain drops
like a feather soft dream
of one ocean unknown…..

Friday, September 3, 2010

RAINDROPS

In one featherlike
dream of my golden memoir
once arrived a word
from my village home
to tell me about mountains
and meridians
of this universe and about
a secret pillar on which earth hides
its magnetic halo
far far away from the synthetic costumes
of urban conscience
and about a monsoon
that showers  all around
this earth and its ocean
in poem like rain drops…..

Thursday, September 2, 2010

EARTHEN

Certainly
I want to edit my life
for the lost days on which
I cried not for me but for this earth
and for its elements earthen
Certainly
I want to edit my life
not on tunes
you try to enforce on me
not on wild drum beats
of a world divided
crashed, collapsed
in debris
but on melodies
melodies of rain drops and flute
and the soft whisper
of dreams
like heartbeats of oceans
like in a poem

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

IMAGES

Yes
I know how to begin
and finish a word in blood
on my finger tips straight
from my heart’s chambers,
from my bloodstreams
not like a silent timid lake
Yes, I know that tactic
oh! the well behaved
your tactic
to nail speech in one coffin

of provocations
to portrait your frames
in images gold
and it is not the first day
of the year, if you remember
it is in third year we run
on which I transformed
from my ignorance to see
world in flagposts
In squares, in arithmetical
wild proportions
Oh the well behaved
Timid silent lake
you exchanged
your conscience
on barter table
your choice- a blunder
And stop performing stage shows
atleast for the sake
of those stars you once held
near your Flagpost