Category Archives: Poetry

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DEATH A MENTAL STATE

A LOOK AT LIFE-64
BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY

DEATH A MENTAL STATE

When it seems all over
Life sprouts
From the ashes of the past once more
Only you need a bit of silence to feel it
A bit of science, a bit of art to realise it
A pair of eyes to see it, acknowledge
Its never-ending beauty and grandeur
A pair of ears to listen to the symphony of life
And lose yourself in its music forever

Look around
Where is death?
It is only life everywhere
Life and its changing colours
Each more bright and beautiful than the other
Atoms and molecules bubbling with vitality
Energy in various forms
Subtle vibrations
Electrons orbiting around the nucleus
Even what you call death
Is life in another form
Death is more a state of mind
Than a physical phenomenon
One who has not seen life in death
Has never lived his life.

It depends on how you define life
It is an urge to expand, manifest, unfold,
Contract and expand
To keep pace with change and maintain
Its existence under all circumstance
It is an urge to live and transform
That differentiates living from the dead
When you lose that urge
You are dead when still alive
Other than this there is no other death
Where one is completely annihilated
Without becoming anything else.

Keep that urge alive
That will never let you die
You will see the beauty of life in death
It is just a transition to take you from
One state of consciousness to another
From one station to the other
On the eternal journey of life
With a vibrant body and new lease of life

Smruti Ranjan Mohanty©

Picture-google

Night’s Life

Feather by feather
Night falls
From Raven Wings of Space

Scratch by scratch
Night advances
Like Mice in the Wainscoting

Flake by flake
Night floats down
Like Soot from a Cooling Chimney

Dream by dream
Night enchants
Like a Magus weaving Spells

Hour by hour
Night glides
Like Unstopping Time

Minute by minute
Night passes
Like Sands through the Waist of an Hourglass

Stroke by stroke
Night paints
Like Rembrandt the Night Watch

Word by word
Night writes
Like a Sleepless Poet

Breath by breath
Night dies
Like a Candle at Dawn

( Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia )

On 19 Oct 2020

Changes

the insights of life that vision the apprehensions

the thorn that brings you in the depth of emotions

the voice within that commends you to slip away

like the setting sun that refuses to brighten my day

the flower blooms with fragrance and beauty

with budding hopes that give life a full bounty

so soon would wither with petals on the ground

crumpled to dust and no traces were ever found

like the sun that gloriously shines each morning

are the shades that bring darkness in my evening

’twas the borrowed moment treasured in my heart

knowing that someday you will leave and depart

everything we kept through the years will change

and the looks in each eye will soon be strange

and as the hands of the clock go round in a circle

when my hair turns gray and my knees will buckle

i will have you near as my thoughts shall forever linger

changes will keep changing but yet, i have you dearer

copyright:10/18/2020

SPSJ

IN WATER COLOR PAINTING BY SUZETTE PORTES SAN JOSE

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A Drop of Lemon

A drop of lemon fell into
the glass of water,
transforming it’s texture, aroma, taste, personality, value,
followed by more drops to make it an appetizing lemonade.
Once water, now carries a flavour,
to maneuver in combination with inner liquids.
A drop of love falling into the heart
transforms the texture, aroma, taste , personality, value,
followed by more drops to make
an immortalized mortal.
Once a human, now carries the traits
of the divine combining the human juices of survival.

A Brief Dalliance

Standing over a bridge of scented cedar
amidst sumptuous gold glazing all over,
I see brisk lives roving in a cerulean creek
under a luscious lemony green streak.

Looks like a playground of god-fearing hearts
on the sand whose glassy shadows are cast;
Like gazelles they jump ecstatically around
in essence, who are pure and profound.

Nature itself is a sundial of this buzzing land
and the wind’s symphony isn’t less than a chant;
It is far beyond a commoner’s imagination,
I swear, I saw on earth a heaven’s imitation.

A perfect meeting place for a body and soul
gratifying senses at every glance that fall;
Where creator himself sheltered his creations,
in God’s own land I’m invited in a celebration.

Copyright @ DrNikhat Bano October 18, 2020 All rights reserved
Photo credit: Google

Do You Need To Tell Me?

A LOOK AT LIFE-57
BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY

you don’t need to tell me
i know who i am
a nonentity struggling for an identity in the vast multitude of humanity
living in a world where success
so difficult to come by
i often ask me a question
if i succeed, will it make me a man?

what to do with success
if that will take me away from my small world
from the things i love, the people i love to be with
what to do with recognition and appreciation if that will make me someone else, alien to myself

what to do with all my affluence if my conscience deserts me, my feelings, emotions and gestures never remain mine
when nobody with me to share my accomplishment and agony

what to do with that glittering world
where my own do not have places to live in
where my childhood friend can’t hug me
men and women of my village cannot identify with me, my riches and success
and look at me as if i am not their own
someone who has come from another heaven

of what use that success?
if it snatches away that innocent smile from my face
of what use that pelf and power
that makes me a virtual beggar
begging for an ounce of love and tear
in a noman’s land

i am happy as i am
with my modest possessions i am the king of my world, do not need anything more
that will take me away from my heart and soul
let me remain as i am, an unknown man
with petty dreams and tiny pleasures
i don’t want to part with my simplicity
my innocent mind and conscience
and live in a pseudo world of treachery and hypocrisy where castles are built in air
love and relationships crucified to satisfy one’s hunger, greed and fancy

there was no fanfare when i was born
my death will be uneventful
let me live and remain the way i am
with all that i value and love
in the midst of love and tears
genuine feelings and emotions
and die a peaceful death in open air and broad daylight, in presence of near and dear
do i need anything more?
©smrutiranjan 12.10.2918
All copyrights reserved

God’s Wounds

Someone was taking brass rubbings .
I sat silently listening to the hour ringing on the bells
The knitted corn- dollies , the pumpkins and gourds
The blowsy autumn flowers , orange , rust and yellow
Huge tall sunflowers, fat dahlias and cheerful marigolds
Some red gold autumn foliage and crimson berries
Apples of all sorts , luscious and juicy , in wooden pails and wicker baskets
Plump pears and juicy nectarines heaped in a brass bowl
The smell of plain white beeswax candles
The gleam of the organ bars
The holy images , their old gold haloes mellowed with time
Their garments coloured like old thick honey
The slanting last sunrays like viscous maple syrup
Poured on the pinewood pews
Thanks would be given tomorrow
Tonight the cherubs and seraphs on the painted ceiling
And the angels carved in corners
Would feast their eyes on the bounty
Provided by nature , arranged by human hands
The Harvest is Home : Festivities Feasting and Thanks are due
This plentifulness that makes engorged bees forget
The stark perpetual winter of the poor
Looted , looted , looted
Down the centuries
The pain refuses to go away
Those deprived are too far away
For the privileged to begin to share with
O God of an unjust world !
The wound in your side is mine
The nail through your heart is mine

( ASA )

GOD’S WOUNDS

17/10/2020