No one at home for a day or two
With the merriment of being left alone
A girl in me peeping up,
I turn this way and that
On my lousy silky bed
Hands cupped the cheeks
to heat up the thrill
curling like a cute earthworm in circles
The bedspread twisting round
On my lousy loosened body
I pretend not to see the day widely opened
splashing its rigorous beams
wake up calls unheard.
I endorse my dreams to stroll around
To the netherworld that dominates
My intense animated thoughts
I charge my dreams to chase
The drenched and darkened clouds
Moist-clad, misty and musky
Finding them often nearing in ease
Gliding past in vengeance
Frisking one over the other,
Sometimes in jubilant clashes, thundering
Flaring in fury
The tints of anguish vanishing
Storming away the dregs of lacerated grit
Bestowing behind
The ever clear droplets of brilliant light!
Now I direct my dreams
To dive deep down
Get sponged, rinsed and bathed
In the fresh downpour
Cleansed and adorned in grandeur
I would interlock them with my elated resolves.
He wouldn’t say it anymore
Trust not a poet, the thief
Who would rob your heart
Idolize you in verses
Taking away your treasured life
Keeping in hiding your virtues
Sculpturing the poetic semblance
Yet, dissolving you
Into a model’s corner
Acclaiming your silent existence;
Just for a profound stimulation
Often in the grip of passion
He would wave turbulence
Into your viscous heart
You would be an outcast in no time
Thrown into an alcove of solace!
‘cause
I did reciprocate and register
So am I, a poet you narrate, a thief
Could snatch your heart
Merely in the hook of my
Bewildered charm in the eyes
Lashing all my poetic utterances
With an ever cunning whip
Here I’ve built the structure
Definitely, it’s of the divine poetry;
You are used up in secret
And evaded off your treasures,
Virtues and fineries …
Look,
Am I not your poet, the thief?
A pyromaniac!
He, the Mahatma, an ever vitalizing soul
On whom the countrymen would pride!
Showering when the heartiest tributes
To our nation’s father, the builder of freedom
Our hearts do melt in compliance with
His glorifying struggles and sacrifices.
His voice in the wilderness, but was heard
And all other voices were silenced,
Upholding Truth, non-violence, and peace!
“Victory attained by violence is tantamount
to a defeat, for it’s momentary” He claimed!
None else than Mahatma could choose
to wrap himself in a Dhothi, half-naked
Walk into streets hand in hand, clinging to
Hapless poor, blacks and down-trodden!
Who else would leap from the peaks of
Leisurely ordains, to the dirt-clad poverty?
His greatness proved in remaking himself
To change the world as a whole for he is
Crowned the title -The man of the Millennium.
Hey prodigy,
on the very first impulse,
your razor-sharp eyes pierced mine
dived deep into my prime essence
I perceived your dominance enthralling,
Desired to be driven closer
and enveloped into the safety of
your love-flavoured breath.
My instincts agitated,
in your fancy kisses
you’d etch on my dreamy eyelashes
Then down on my purpled lips
I longed to merge in the steam of passion.
But,
just in a minute split second
I opened up myself
on a too forlorn prickly podium
your eyes seemed no longer steady
Those spiralled into a mercantile tenor
contemplating each line and curve of artistry
up and down me, head to toe.
Now too moody, I ingest
every attribute you weigh up
on the most exclusive and priceless fineries
out of my feminine features
The very next hour I’d be transformed into
A high priced artefact for a decent bargain!
Look at the man stooping down,
his hands shivering to plead for a dime!
Enraptured are lines on the forehead
simmering into stories never exhibited
Lashing below the eyelids
Fringed are vivid dark metaphors
Greyed are those curvatures on cheeks
plain holding the faded smiles
Rusted to ash tinges, the lips seem shy there
The long erratic episodes one after other
Enacting frantically in clumsy swings…
Many more are stretched on the bare chest
Waiting to be cruised in fragile moves
Deep melodious rhymes are tuned
Along the shrunken belly in parallel beams
Adorned the bilious palms in loops n curls
Those crippled segments take their turns
On the lame feet in every aimless descend,
Beneath indeterminate umpteen lines of life,
Cuddled are amaranthine lifespans!
I endorse my dreams to stroll around
To the netherworld that dominates
My intense animated thoughts
I charge my dreams to chase
The drenched and darkened clouds
Moist-clad, misty and musky
Finding them often nearing in ease
Gliding past in vengeance
Frisking one over the other,
Sometimes in jubilant clashes, thundering
Flaring in fury
The tints of anguish vanishing
Storming away the dregs of lacerated grit
Bestowing behind
The ever clear droplets of brilliant light!
Now I direct my dreams
To dive deep down
Get sponged, rinsed and bathed
In the fresh downpour
Cleansed and adorned in grandeur
I would interlock them with my elated resolves.
On the abandoned corner of a lonely park
He dozes idling on a cement bench
daydreams,
drenched in withering thoughts
drowned deep in the depths of a pool
of utter dejection
Often he springs up, flapping the wings
of craving desires
spreading the hopes on fire,
flaming and fuming
Yet, extending his soul outwards
It starts flying up, flaring
knowing not where the catch is hidden.
A writ, may he petition
ogled into the stone-deaf refusal
Edifying his crucial numbness
in disguise the agony
knowing where would it testify.
His glances in dreams bounce back
when her severance turns too frantic
Leaving his throat bitterly wad
– Her still astride him
And him still astride her-
He feels the glass shards of itching pain
In disguise, loiters his self-esteem
the edgy redolence hurts
Oh! He catches that infectious laugh
There twinkling a star of love illuminated
A silky soft breeze brushing his bearded face
A dark lustre of lock gliding past
Yes, It’s the feel solidifying; She is here
May the illusions gnaw and taunt
He’d hack the day over his nights
And ponder to track her down.
He came jetting over the
turbulent ocean waves
disembarked on his past
before his memoirs would
dry and disappear…
The truth and deceits of
an uncertain moment
began to whirl around him…
As if
from under the stone-heaps of
a level-slid heart
a shrilled scream fondled him
“Oh! My boy…”
In order to drown
with the streams of rains,
carrying the made up paper boats
“Look, your Bro is ready…”
while clapping and shrieking,
he kept frisking for his younger sis
who played hide and seek…
Grandma’s seism
clutching the teeth
pointing to the rain fevers
“The spirits will run on you”
are lashing with skinny rods…
“The Karkkidakam has come near
the fields are filled…”
Cutting straight,
the routes of concerns
the father- spade
annoyed and shuddered…
“Ho! Everything lost…!
Are we to reap the chaff?”
The paddy field as a whole
swayed and staggered down
benumbed and blacked out…
The ‘Mailanjchi’ adorned
palms of a would-be bride
in visual gestures
wept unsuppressed
“It isn’t me destined to you”…
The kid’s plays of
the generations to be born
through him
did hook certain muddy layers
and there, in some valley trapped
they shout …” Hidden, are we ……,
Find us…”
He now hastens to migrate
into a continent
where his birth identity is forfeited
shouldering all the memory-exhibits…
realizing fully well
he is the only seed dried up
and preserved for a family tree
out of emptiness…
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