Author Archives: tapeshwar

Meaningful occurrences

Leave a Reply

The ceiling fan blades were rotating
Slowly slowly – anticlockwise –
Over the ceiling wall
Cutting my thoughts into pieces

It was all artificial light inside
Fluorescent all around my room
Night never beamed, or
Streaked my glass window pane
With its silvery strands

We are boggling our time
Staring movement of the fan
Least aware, that
Some meaningful occurrences are happening
Outside our preview

I did all
To align my thoughts with outside, but
Artificiality rounded me such that
Even I tried to switch it off
The blades kept on rotating into my dreams

I look your invisibility

4 Replies

Everything that I touch
Objects of my household
From an empty chair
to a solitary bed –
All familiarity with my invisible eyes
I traverse the woes of your departure
That try to press me here –
Worn out paint from an old chair
The greasy layers of teakwood bed

You are still there into my present
Caressing thy love, and
To give you a motherly chase
I tickle myself
A little by my playful heart
And run you through.
Tired, I look your invisibility
Streaking my cheeks with warm tears
Forgetting time in all its pass


Turing test

2 Replies

O Machine!
Even if you could pass
The Turing test
By your refined dataquest
Competing byte by byte
On us humans
Will you ever be blessed
To weep my heart
When your power goes down
Because of the weaker electric signals
Running throughout your wired body
Putting a ney
To your seemingly conscious form
And
I will be there
Standing beside you
Holding a shovel by my firm hands

Boyhood pencil

1 Reply

It was my boyhood pencil, that
Kept me busy
into my present –
Doing sketches:
Drawing lines, and
an alphabetical curves

I am no more
A grown up man
Exercising my age
Still there lurks
An innocence
into my bygone imageries
Behind every words
That I write presently
Crying by my septuagenarian thoughts –
What for this grey hairs
What for this time

Still, I treasure my innocence
Writing my pen
Giving a graphite thought to it
Full of ink
On a blank white paper

More of a take

5 Replies

How can you
see me not; blooming
far off the mountain ranges
Taking a golden smile
into your heart

How can you
feel me not; swaying
far off the moorland
Taking a cool breeze
by your slender branches

How can you
remember me not; shedding
the last fall
of my benevolent tears
Beyond the muted graveyards

How can you
dream me not; drifting
amongst the hoary clouds
Taking a wink of my gesture
Upper than the whirling skies

Solitary leaf

3 Replies

A leaf came rustling down the earth
Whispering soft by the evening breeze
Taking all the stories of its last fall
From the verdant branches of a chirping tree

Slowly and slowly the long eastern light
Started settling down the dusky west
And the night came unveiling its granite face
Sporting ignis fatuus of the hooting nights

Many occasions pressed shoveling the dark
With the tenacity of the burning heart
Tiny creatures peeped teeming with bright eyes
Yet, I could not find the mistaken identity of my solitary leaf

Tall silence

6 Replies

Whilst I was wandering, Lonely
into the deep forest
Down its curved path
A tall silence gripped around me
Shrieking me over
By its cool blood

Not so fearful of
My humanly form – it seemed –
Many fantoms
Weired of multi-footings, came
Floating,
Gliding down
from the thick surrounding air
Flapping its big ears –
Lured me
into my being
And
Wide awake
Took a bane of my existence
And
Pulled me off

From that very moment
I willed my spirit too
To shear itself out
Along the lines of my body

Still
One could hear
The satiated shrill
Of tall silence

Lacuna of forgetting

3 Replies

You have been giving
Every word to your memory
While bloating an ink on paper
Yet many instances pass-by
Mercilessly
Fossilized into the time gap
Between the past and the present –
Future amnesia bubbles up
Filling the void within

Much remains
Gurgling down the throat.
Omnibuses of truncated silence
Flap
At the edges of moving fingers
Still you write,
And write
Your decayed words –
Less it breeds
Lesser more to staleness
Ineffective, uninspired
The real
Lacuna of forgetting