If I had to go away to the land of spring

If I had to go away to the land of spring
I would choose a country road through green
Red and dusty and filled with aroma of flower
Which takes human mind to that bower
Where it tries not to make words halt and burst
But it makes them wrought by poesy just,
As it is kept for ages in our earth's sacred heart
As it is kept there from that day of our birth,If I had to go away to the land of spring
I would choose a country road through green
Red and dusty and filled with serene bless
Which makes human mind to find and trace
How for years it had grown there with ease
How it had caught for years that calming breeze
And made expressive that inexpressible thought
That it always for its unfolding haply sought,If I had to go away to the land of spring
I would take in me all that life brings
And turn them into poems that soothe
As best as I by my mind possibly could
Create and leave them to take winged charm
Till they meet their rhymes to become
Songs which bear that bounty of earth
As the…

Being woman

Had I been an existentialist
I would have made a wish
To turn me a woman
For then I would find follies of man
And bear flowers on my earth
And make rivers run to make birth
Of civilisations, habitats and Paradise
I would have created  those skies
Which remain blue and ever lighted
There would I become beauty so sighted
And wear on my skin all that women had been
Wearing for ages, marks of oppression,
Hate, slut shaming, lustful gropings in dark,
I would become just a flying lark
And swoop down only to make a treat
Of women rising up to their feet.
( the photoquote attached is of Simone De Beauvoir's.)

In the time of breaking of statues

Dynasties will pass
They always do
And breaking of nations
Will just continue,From one regime to another
We will just go
And breaking of statues
Our TVs will show,You will wear a black badge
I will say it has been right
You will stand there with slogans smudged
I will embrace the night, Then we will walk past
Our broken country with hate
You will raise your sword
I will think of bullets,Then oneday on ruined broken earth
We will crawl like men bereft of all
You will think of Jean Paul Sartre
And I would think of how we did fall,You will then try to mumble and sing
A song of love and brotherhood
I will also my self towards you bring
And over our acts with solemn face brood,By then our country will turn into desert
Without our huts, homes and settlements,
We will just lie on sands, taken apart
By our own acts of pure nonsense.

Julia, her man and the spring

In her cottage lone and bright
Away a bit from din
Julia had been living quiet
With her garden as it seemed, Her man, the man who went
To different places for works his
Would come home when the scent
Of spring would catch the breeze, Julia would wait all months long
All days thinking of him
When spring would give her the song
And glittering waves deck the stream, She would stand at her door
Peering out to see
If by that pebbled path sure
With blooms woke that tree, For she knew every year
When that tree would dress up so
Her man would come near
Her with mirth that spring does sow And then he would come, her man
Walking stones of miles few
He would bring for her stories of lands
And adornments with pinkish hues, He would tell her how in between
His works and daily fights
He found peace of love clean
Giving him soulful flights, And Julia would look at him
And think of how is it
Spring comes every year as it seemed
And gives her wonderous treat, She would think of finding more

Waltz of spring

After many days from now
When we would have leisure
You would surely ask how
Our words did we measure, And I would probably  say
It all happened like that song
You when Chopin's Waltz did play
And took me where I belonged, I opened like a flower
As your fingers ran on board
I took heavenly shower
As it so musically poured, I looked at your hair
Dancing like a cascade
I dreamt and did dare
Knocking at your gate,
And you like a reluctant lover
Gave rise to those keys
As they rose and also lowered
Like a gust of spring breeze , You gave your fingers
Blessed rhythm as cue,
And I in that lingered
Like on  leaf rests dew.

Out of bounds

Just like a dream out of bounds
Her , I , in a sprawling meadows found
Dressed in white , a troubadour
Singing her way, to the horizon sure,
The day was then turning to eve
The breeze was then making a sweep
Over the field , the grassy land quiet
She walked owned by sky's fading light, Her song had that narration of her past
Her being born out of speckled dust
That oft the twilight writes on earth
She sang of that time of her birth,
She sang how for years beyond count
Her, people in dreams just found
And alluded her with varied  epiphany
She sang how she lived a life too many,
She sang how oft she bore that rhyme
That gave many  that charm sublime
She sang how oft in a poetic surge
Her painted scape in canvases emerged,
Out of bounds just like a dream
The troubadour sang as it seemed
And the meadows half drowned in light
And half in dark, waited, bemused quite.

Wish could I sing for you

Wish could I sing for you,
On leaves as you keep nightly dews
On meadows as you keep your bright
On faces of children your delight,
And I wish you keep me amazed thus
Moments of time as like river pass,
Wish through you I see more of you
How you keep on providing cues
Of life, its beauty and grace
Of heavenly charms and their bless
Of fostering earth and her generosity
Of your kindness and godly piety.

Floating like a leaf with a poem on it

All day long spent doing things
Which carried perhaps no meaning
But when that hour came with the rays last
Of the setting sun's sparkle spread vast
On lands and trees and flowers
And when that gave them all what suited best
How I put my banal mundane  works to rest
And look at the spectacle so revealed,
Yellow green orange colors as my soul fill,
And wonder what is there on this earth
That gives us  moments of this undiluted mirth? I look at trembling leaves, shadowy trees,
I feel how brushing me goes the whiff of breeze
I take them onto my heart as one in love does oft
I think of my maid kissing on my cheeks soft
I think of living through in wonder , astounded,
I think of getting swayed by magic, not grounded, And I float like a leaf so bathed by dusk
I float like a leaf with a poem on skin just.