ONCE MORE -17
BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY
What that sense where prime of youth is not in its colours
What that physical assertion where love is not in its lovely ebullient flow
What that richness where to live and let live is unfound,
What’s that life if, for own, dreamy waves won’t go round,
What that achievement which meant for all and surrounds??
After sharing, inch by inch, in the least piece-
Among all, you call your own
Have you ever thought of dilapidation
That, You and your dreams only, not your contemplation;
Someone is there, who dreams in drizzling monsoon –
In sedative silvery shine bedecked of filmography
Of acceptance of inseparable hue
And salubrious night subdues in golden scabbard night’s view.
Me, not Dhritarasta; you my Gandhari,
Nor am I Arjun, You are born from Fire, Jangyasenii.
You my only resort
Me your first and first ever love,
The cloud burst assurance and beliefs of last to absorb.
Yes, I am bowing down GANDIB before you ;
Remove that blinded asking of close-run thing,
Have a close look in my eyes how beautiful is life filled in spring
Pave on crossing over stairs of desire and sacrifices
As of a modest and newly wedded in a palanquin.
Taking into my hearts account
In time-honoured solidarity
I will do up by series of scented vulnerability
Lines of arrayed red-stream
And handful oblivion
Bags of colour and utter belief-cream.
I will forget what’s the month of my age,
Reverberate to unveil bashful daiquiri wine
Calls there another newborn morning, a new beckoning
Celebration of child sun’s evaluation.
Have your lips on mine
Life is yet to begin
©® SmrutiRanjan Mohanty