Monday, September 30, 2013

How the wind dropped a glance,

Fingers tapping the keyboard,
Thought of taking a rest,
Eyes looked up
And a moment there caught frozen,
A breeze fell a glance,
While pavement walked past,
Like an afternoon
Writing dreams...
So lucid.

It has been, Amoretti,

It has been such a rainy day,
That streets appeared horrendous,
Traffic went hay wire,
And time much got elapsed,

But still
The day had the breeze superb
Still the day painted poems at circular road
Before catching up the bridge to the Square
Where sitting quiet, perhaps Edmund Spenser
Thought of Amoretti,

And festivity in terms of the cityscape emerges
Like poems so softly blown by the air.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

On Justina,*

Seen Her,
Holding a leaf of palm,
And a sword,

There She stood,
An attainment of sainthood,
Oil on wood,

Seen Her
Lily in Her hand,
Holding the world
In Her peaceful Eyes,

As eternal, turned into art,
As a martyr,
As proper,
Her hair colored copper
Flowing down
Like a cascade
Of Divine dress,

Seen Her...

{Note : *Saint Justina, as a painting by Bartolomeo Montagna,(1450-1523)}


This morn,
Waking up to wetness
Of rains that left
Traces of dreams on verandah,
Terrace, window, garage door,
I find swallows,
A family of four,
Taken shelter
Right on the ventilator,

I looked at their refuge,
How they had gathered twigs and twines,
How with them they built fine,
A nest,
Right there on the ventilator...

They hopped,
They chirped,
In their own way they had their mirth,

This morn,
I find swallows
Declaring domesticity
So good, like a beauty,
Gathering twigs and twines
To make a nest of their own,

And on greenish lawn,
Flowers bloomed with life,
I saw the morn in another light...
I fell in love with the bonds
That tie,
Life with life...
Like those swallows...
Hopping in delight.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Life, how You leave leaves...

How You leave,
Leaves oft,
Only to be felt,
Like a drizzle soft,

How dreams You generate,for mindful eyes,
How You paint sculptures nice,
How You bring some evenings,
Crooning an occasion of only dreams,
How You leave imagery of light,
On streets wet by rains slight...

And i so helped by the bliss
Feel only writing outlandish.

Such a cool morn, such a breezy begin,

Such a cool moist morn,
Such a breezy beginning,
If the day waking up sings,
If those trees stand up such to feel,
If the streets with such calmed state to one reveal
Only candid a rivery flow,
Why not one loves life more?
Why not one takes to philos?

If with an inner delight
Of divine mellowed light
The soul finds a journey pure vertical,
If with the climbing of stairs
One stops a bit to get the cloudy layers,
If songs happen in every part of one's existence,
If dreams deepen to paint a fantastic festive sense,
Why not one takes in all that surround one?
Why not one becomes a receptor of the songs of an Awakened Morn?
Why not one writes an Escape to Eternity?
Why not one kneels more to be blessed by awesome Piety?

Is there anything better?

Is there anything better
To do?
Tell me,
If you take, a very simple view...
To take in those little elements
Of Mother,
As Deified Nature,
As pebbles colored lying shining under water,
As those little forms original life,
Like green tiny miniscule algae,
If you by them a bit bothered,
Is there anything better?
Than sitting quiet?
Sitting only by one
Sitting closely by the beauteous dawn
Filling this life,
This air,
This soil,
This heart...

Tell me,
Is there
Anything more dear,
Than being so merged
By the waves rippling,
By the sky opened,
By the breeze of a season,
Filling one?

That way
I am sure
We are all here to stay,
We are all here to be forever in dismay
And wonder,
Revealed to the Mother,
Her best state of showering,
Summers, autumns, winters and springs...
That way,
Can we not be feeling our true selves?
That way,
Can we not discover
What life is all about?
Where flowers sprout?
Which cosmic energy rises a treble to a sombre kind?
Which flow of a stream one to mind forever binds?
Which sky paints the blue blue wide a dream?
Where life meets the spread up infinite?
Why one cries, sobs and yells, and also sings out hap?
How one pours all strifes into her Motherly lap?
How a transparent candid cloud with gaiety weave a tale?
How alone gongs a heavy brassy bell?

Tell me,
Is there any better way to live?
Is there any better way to realise
To feel the stoic inside?
Is there any better path?
Other than with bowed head accept that divine Heart,
Which promulgates
A million dreams to bloom,
In every form...

Is there
Any way better?
To write,
To weave a life?

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Tied my life with You, as a song,

Tied my life with You,
As a song, autogenerated,
As sings the morn,
As sings the air so youngish an autumn,
As sings dream
Of waking up
To a long vacation,
Of spending life
With poetic potion,
As sing those trees,
Drinking the flavour of the cool breeze,
As sings the lovely street,
Where golden chips
Fall with sparkling drops...

Tied my life with You,
Life, as drops of dew
Sketch paintings few
On rear view glass,
As lighted mist on my face
Life paints like fragrant best,
Tied my life with the celebration
Of life,
Of birth,
Of living to the fullest,
Of being in best blessed state,
Written by You,
The State.

The imaginery dot,

You might be
Elisenda, *
And I might be
That imaginery
Flown to the sky,
Seen in
This morn's misty foggy light,

You might be
In the kitchen,
Putting tea pot
On oven,
Chopping leaves
Of tea,
Pouring them into the pot,
An aromatic morn
As makes descent with awesome liqueur,
Smelling Darjeeling,

And I might be that
Little imaginery dot,
Flown to the sky,
Or a Beauty caught by sleepy drowsy eyes...

( note: *Elisenda: a character of a short story by GG Marquez)

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Like a wind to a soul

Like a wind
To the soul
A song
On red oxide floor
Childhood mine

Like a wind
To the soul
Cat Stevens *
On red oxide floor
Childhood mine

And soul flies,
To that,
Soul dives
To that,

Like a wind
To the Soul,
When Cat Stevens arrives,
The Soul dives.

(Note : * Cat Stevens , The Wind)

Sunday, September 22, 2013

In my soul, sometimes You leave a poem as a drop,

In my soul,
Sometimes I feel
The drop of gold,
A kindle of a light,
A dew drop like a tune light,
And then
At that very moment,
Songs happen
Loving You
As a song,

In my soul
Sometimes I feel
The hues of Heaven,
Like a Paradise born
By You as a song,
A song which sings journeys to dreams,
And my soul then
Catches the moment
Of a heavenly scene,

Sometimes I dream,
Sometimes I live,
The rest of the times
I just sleep.

If the world would have been, a land of only dreams...

If the world would have been
Only a land of dreams,
Then you would have found me right
Then By Him we all would be spotted bright,
If the world would have been
Only a land of dreams,
Then me would  for You sing,
And You would bring showers never ending,

If the Skylark would have seen
The World through Her eyes
Then, there would be only colored flights
To spontaneous unpremeditated surge,
Then the World would have by music felt a merge,

If the road would have been laid so,
Then, poems would like rivers in all forever flow,
And perhaps, then, me would stop writing,
Perhaps then, there would be no need of singing...

For songs would then happen without pens
For then dreams would fall on every optic lens,
For then there would be perhaps no need of books to read,
For then there would be no thing to plant on souls as seeds...
For then there would be no wars, chemical weapons, gas masks,
For then the World would forever in Holy Sun Shine bask...

Have you ever felt the sky?

Have you ever tried
To feel the width of the Sky?
How in Her awesome blue and white
She spreads light?
How every morn comes bright
With the Lord smiling?
How every night turns a beauty of a dawn?
How airy moisture transforms
Into dewy dense sparkling forms?
How songs eternal float in varied shapes?
How Mother Nature with only soothe life forever drapes?

Have you ever tried
To anchor your heart
To get a feel of the soil of the earth?
Have you journeyed without making elaborate plans?
Have you danced ever only for the love of a dance?
Have you sung ever loving the song?
Have you, dear, found the short distance in the long?
Have you felt ever the silence how words keep?
Have you discovered how alphabets can also plunge to the Musical flow of a Deep?

Have you felt the ripples of water on soul?
Have you ever thought of catching the morn like beads of gold?
Have you ever stood alone only for All?
Have you felt how maple reds sketch a perennial Fall?
Have you, met with eyes by tears calling a prayer of Peace?
Have you ever thought of traveling by Mind without cease?
Have you, ever, tried to get a proper feel of the Road?
Have you, ever, felt the cool breeze sweeping a cornfield of Happiness broad?

Saturday, September 21, 2013

With such an autumn, such a sky, how can one not be happy?

With such an autumn,
Such a sky,
A Journeying Saturday,
Towed in heart,
How can one
Not be happy?
How can one
Not be gay?
With such a cool
Scenic smiling pool
Of pictures happening
In one'e eyes,
How can one
Not in happiness lie?

How can one
Not be jocund?
With such an Autumn
There in one's heart...
With such a city
In one's birth...
The city of joy,
The city of colors,
The city with trams
Moving still,
Like beautiful thing
Of ringing a song, like bells
In the air, always on swing...

( Note: the photo attached is taken by me, )

A city, a rickshaw, a window mine,

The city
Like a bluerickshaw,
By the wall,
Through window glass mine,
Standing so sleepy,
Of the city...
Its unique solitude,
Amidst a Saturday bath...
Amidst hurly burly...
As spiritual existence of Be ing
A three hundred year old and more
Bracing new with the old,
And growing forever...

As evolves life,

As evolves times,

( Note: the picture/photo is taken by me, as usual, real time)

These eyes yours, this pink n blue,

These eyes yours
This pink and blue,
This birth
Changes me
And you too...
This ours days forever
This ours flowing river,
This our newer ways
Of exploring
Each other
Like first time lovers,

This holiness
This poetic movement,
Perhaps turned you
An admirer of me...
This egoless movement
Without cease
Never would have happened...
We would not have fallen
For each other like this...
No celebration of life
would have come...
Loving you,
Is like loving existence,
Loving life,
Loving meself.

( note: the photo attached, taken by me, is of my wife, Soma, real time,
To add the feel of the instant, the moment, me has put the pic into an instant photo frame, just a small photo edit,)

Like this sky, like this divine tune,

Like this sky
Like this divine tune,
Me hath always flown
To every bit of poem,
That rises in me,
And me remembers
Like photographs
How life has put me
To a reality,
To a growth
Of a birth
To curious eyes
That discovers
After marvels
As the world opens
Every moment
To newer splendour,
As me performs
Banal tasks...
Like that of clerks
Writing math
Writing geometry
Without much of 4d...

Me hath learnt
To unfold
By Your
And that
Saves me
From weariness,
From unrest
From unholy meaningless...

( note: the picture attached is taken by me, real time, as we are out for a saturday feast, we meaning me, wifey and the kiddo)

What a sky, what a road,

What a sky,
What a road,
Like reaching
Like a morn,
Like perfumed you
Like a tree,
At that bent
Shining by a feast
Of my mind,
My words...
Like Gibran *
In your eyes
Writing my dreams.

( Note: the photo attached is taken by me, real time, *Khalil Gibran, the poet)

Fill me, with Your Gold, colory birth, color my veins, my soul,

Fill me
With Your Gold,
Your Colory Birth,
Color me soul,

Fill me
By colors
From the sky,
Colors from your misty,
Cooled breezy,
Lit up an Autumn,
Color me by cloudy cottons,
Color me
By Your never ending anthology
Your written
Unwritten scriptures,
Your doctrine of ever lasting Life,
Color me with Your Holy Drive
Of  joyous stream,  so bright,
Like a Religious Bright,

Charge me with Your Faith,
Your times that flows never wanting to be delayed,
By any lapse of poesy,
Color me with Your flowering daisies,
Your ramblin' brook,
Color me with Your Holy Book
of Psalms,
Paintings that to childhood mine turn,
Color me with
Your ways of planting balms
On the World,
Non stop,

As me writes,
Writes till me dies,
Writes till me wakes,
Writes all Your glorified spontaneous takes...
As me hath known nothing else since birth,
As me hath lived only only for that,
As me have been doing living by that flow
Since one September, like a virgo.

O Autumn, pass not this morn, without swells of Your Gold...

O Autumn,
Pass not this morn,
Without passing into my soul
Your pure embedded gold
That falls on leaves
On trees
On roads
On roofs
On river
On the boats...
On kash flowery hopes,
On cloudy floats,

O Autumn
Pass not ever
Without shining on me
Like a Lovely shiver
To a festive silvery gold,

O Autumn
Pass not me,
Without filling me
With songs of bless,
Of Your kindness
That musically swells,

O Autumn
Pass not me
Where me forever dwells...
Like scribbles,
Like posts,
Like writing rhymes
Reaching far across...
Like finding Heavens in Your arms.

If the morn such a Beauty like arrives, how can one sleep?

If the morn
With a cool wet breeze such
And if the rooster calls,
And birds chirp being in harmony
With the songs in the air,
If the season such feel like drapes one,
Like a silent peaceful lovely dawn,
How can,
One sleep?
Without slipping into a state
Of being filled by the sky?
How can one keep closed one's eyes
Never to be awakened to the Sunrise?
How can one pass a day break
Without realising how life in blossoms take
All sweetness of Life to bloom
So heartful?

If the morn comes with such an awesome birth
Of another begining of a journey to deepest mirth
Of living life, celebrating it like a flow of a tide,
How can one not open
One's eyes and ears?
How can one just lie indifferent
To the morn's birth, so happy fresh a sense?
How can one just not be at harmonious rest?
By You, not Blessed?

Friday, September 20, 2013

By Your silvery flakes, icy cool falls, like a song,

By Your silvery flakes,
Icy cool falls like a dress,
On me,
And me sees
How me lies there
How me like a September nineteen
By You,
Gets a lease...

And my eyes read
Night of a light,
Yellowish low,
But sacred, pure,
No soft tap
On window pane,
No blue lamp,

For me hath got no thing
To Meet at night
And Part in the early hours of the morning,
For in me Browning*
arrives like a boat ride,
Of a soul, as me beholds
The Harvest of lingering Moon,
And the road by golden silvery swoon,
Always shines, in me straight,
Like a write, of a life,
With no arrival
And no departure,
Like a constant,
Eternal feature,

For a fall equinox post
Calls in a Golden Frost,#
Of being lost in dreams,
Of life as a scene of
The Real,

For morns
And evenings
In me equally sing,
Silvery flakes,
Golden dress,
And The Sublime,
Of Your Wine,
The Divine.

(Note: * Robert Browning, the poet, who once wrote 'Meeting at the Night' and 'Parting at morning', two poems, as companions,
# Robert Frost, the  poet,
thinking his famous line:'And miles to go before I sleep...')

This dusk, by sheer Will, You me sees, Lord..

This dusk,
By sheer Will
You me sees
As a Charioteer,
With a golden heart,
Running You
Through the heat of the dusk
Brightened like a spectre
En~Flamed by nectar,
Blue as blue as bleeding ink mine,

This dusk,
You me finds
O Lord mine,
A chariot on shine,
Through the heat of the dusk,
Brightened by the energised state,
Like a run to a dream scape,

And runs life
With me,
And runs fate
With me,
Like Eternality...

Down hill I came lighting a Dunhil,

Downhill I came lighting a Dunhil*
Not hungry, not starved,
But heard
The Owl crying
The Name of Edward Thomas,#

Downhill I came lighting a Dunhil
Not hungry, not starved,
But me ran fast
To catch
The drops of fires
In my extended palms...

And thought
The journey
Of another write,
Of the evening.

( note: *Dunhil: a cigarette manufacturing company, but not Dunhill, the pretty known one, as one Alfred Dunhill established.
#Edward Thomas: the poet, who once wrote a poem 'The Owl'
Owl, as a bird has several myths, oriental and occidental.)

Love is what? Pray?

Love is
It is
A burn
A state
A flight
A rest
A deep
A plunge
A light
A dance
A profound
A wide
A sky
A dye
A vision
A paint
A mission
A saint
A rhythm
An ice
A fire
A rolling stone,
A breeze
A boon,
A Shine
A Moon
A Season
A Rhyme
A Reason
A climb,
An awakening
A sleep
A thousand kilowatt volt
Where clouds forever keep...

Love is a child
Love is octogenerian
Love is mild
Like just a life,

Love is what?
A journey
To Inner Mirth...
And also The Pure Void,
Ain't it?

with me you will fly, not to the ocean not to this earth, but just to Eternity ~to Energy ~ to the Sun~ to a Star.

With me you will move,
Not to the ocean,
Not to this earth, plain,
But we will fly,
To the sky,
Like flies life,
Like flies destiny...

With you me will move,
Not to lands,
Not to sands,
But we will flow
To the peace of Love,
Like flies water from clouds,
Like flies shooting arrows of light,

We will fly...

We will fly
E~ T~ E~R~N~I~T~I
      ~to numberlessness

               ~ to n times

                    ~ to lying eight

                         ~to lemniscate

                                ~to ○○
merged ,
To be Light,
Like the Sun,
Like Energy
Like A Star.


me will meet you, at the edge, of tomorrow,

Me will meet You,
At the edge,
Of tomorrow,
Where you would lie bare
Like a layer of a festive Fair,
Where hopes from heaven would on you shower
Like a death of desire,
Like a birth of a soulful air,
Within you,
And in me too,
Me will meet You
At that edge,
Of tomorrow...
Like our glory,
Like our lives pure,
Like our days of writes,
Like our days of a rise,
Like days of travels to the space,
Like days of painted skylines so many,
Like Fall of happiness like tingling pennies,
Like vertical jet smoke sketching lines off limit,
Like taking a flight to the mountain summit,
Like a dream of a reading session by lamp,
Like a birdsong pasted on a window like a little champ
Of our existence,
Like Our lives walking on thin red lines, barbfenced,
Like a movie stream of a vast country,
Like a wheatfield reaching the Inifinity,
Like a free ride down the road, with a radiohead,
Like a long write as asphalt flowing laid...

Me will meet You,
Only there,
Where the morn would stand like a dream fair,
Where The Lord,
Stands with His Smile,
Where songs of blowing wind traverse thousand miles.

This morn is Eternal,

This morn is eternal,
Like Sunshine,
Like a song,
Like Love
Of life,
Like a sky so blue white,
Like this Breeze,
Like the Beauty me sees
In You,
Every passing moment
Of my travels,
My gliding ride through the city,
Finding peace filling my kitty,
Finding faces woken up at windows,
Puffed, looking out like a beauteous dawn,
where seeds of birth You sow,
Like from a bath, a child being born,
Like a perfumed flower getting filled
By the wetness of the air, this lovely morn,
Like a painted building standing drenched,
By gold of the Sun, where dreams grow dense,
Like a river never coming to a stop,
Like a movie hall with a giant ticking clock,
Ticking forever ticking,

This morn is
Like You.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Sometimes me reaches the hill, only to feel... You, the Breeze,

Sometimes me reaches the hill
Only to feel
The breeze,
There me alone stills
For there is
No cease
To your dreams,
For there
Can never be
Barring me,
To receive
Your Tranquility,

For there
Breezy You blow
Like a flow
Only in me,
As flows
me without me,
you without you.

This cool light, this soft melodious night,

This cool light
This soft melodious night,
Silence fitting this purpose of  time,
How Bells of changes in me chime,

This wonderous journey,
happening to the click of a key,
Graceful Your moves how in  me seals,
Your lair how me perpetual feels,

This boat reaching a shore,
This journey taking me only indoors,
How in me causes a Sabbath,
How by waves me gets a Bath,

This sleepy unmoved soaking a shower,
This tuneful heavenly dreamy a bower,
How like distant whistle calls me to sing,
How in me a colored death sighs yours bring.

Have you seen the moon tonight?

Have you seen the moon tonight?
How She shines there like a write?
As shines on me Your Holy face,
As shines on me a poetic haze,
Caused by the autumn dripping like a wine,
Have you seen Her, The Silvery Shine?

Have you seen how She holds a line?
Have you dipped into words broken to Aleph* signed?
Have you felt the feel of the cool?
Have you plunged into an oceanic pool?
Have you met me in those alphabets?
Have you gotten steadied by my sleepy Rest?

Have you seen the moon tonight?
How She upon me writes a light?
Have you felt me as another kind?
Have you not in me found your Most Beautiful Mind?

(Note: *Aleph: in Hebrew meaning the same Root, something like spiritual or divine manifestation of soul , )

me promises, me comes to Your Fever, like cold rain,

me promises
Me will come forever,
As cold rain
To your fever,
To your frets,
me promises
Me will raise from hundred deaths,
me promises
Me will promise forever a gold,
Me promises
me will leave me on you as a soul,

Me promises me
As a statement of silent scape,
Me promises junes, julys, septembers
By You, a raise, Blessed.

Let me take you to this festive birth, if me can, dear,

Let me take you to this festive birth,
If me can,
This festive season, of my leaves,
Of a fantastic Dream,
As a soft gleam
In me eyes,
Where me keeps me,
Like strawberry fields

Let me take you to this occasion
If me be allowed,
Let me pour onto you
This cool breeze carrying a feathery view
Of life,
So light, that it never slips,
Yet it falls like leaves
Of maple
Let me take your all feels Unsaid,

Let me take you to me eyes
Where fire lives with ice,
Where writes overcome me soul,
Where mellowed lights catch pure , a crystal bowl,

Let me take you to the Root,
Where life in eyes brood
A rhyme in words sketched,
Let me take you to that deep like a Fate.

Like a painting, like a scribbling, like a city,

Like a painting,
Like a scribbling,
Like a city
Dressed in red builds
Going up,
With cranes fit,
As ladders go up,
A picture drops,
The Known city,
The known art,
The known mind,
And yet so italian by design,

Just like Amadore,#
Whom me met through my eyes
And who planted once the seed,
'In search of  La radice, (c)'*
A special, very special thing into me,
Me sees,

A design,
A craft,
An Amadore perhaps,
A fiction of my own,
There on me eyes are shown
By the morn.

{ Note: the painting attached is not mine, not done by me either, but it is Italian sure, collected from an Italian site.
# Amadore : a character of a fiction written by me and Amadore Ghirlandaio is his full name.
* In search of la radice: the title of the fiction, written by me.
(C) : the fiction ms already submitted, carries copyright protection, quite understandably, }

There is only sky...

This morn is just nothing
But an awesome sky...
Where woken up birds fly
And their wings getting drenched
By the wet and the shine,

This morn is a ride
Through the country city alike,
Finding how buses get filled
With children by the window seats,
Catching the morn like a cool breeze...
And the sky, spread as usually wide,
Telling An Autumn, autumnal sight...

( Note: the pic attached is taken by me, real time)

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Traveling to c.650

Traveling to c.650
Is like finding Hilda of Whitby,*
There on a painted glass
Smiling like Divinity.
( Note: *Hilda of Whitby: a priestess, associated with Caedmonian school of OE Poetry, )

ubuntu... can we?

can we
when me
by this songy breeze
ceases to be me...
and you cease to be

takes over
the little time
the time gets done

all become...

This rain is like a freedom on me!

Rains happen
Like going away to the far,
Blessed by Her,
Neptune's daughter,
Whom me meets often in vision,
In white walking a slow motion,
Through waters of Ganges,
Bhagirathi, Tiber, Tames...
Walking exactly like my dame...
A slow walk through the water,
A movement causing only me soul to go aflutter...

And the streets by lights fashioned,
Hold me miniscule, so impassioned,
As passion murmuring calls
A brook from where the mountain falls,
Running through the ups and downs
Of hills, plateaus, plains, sown unsown...

Sometimes a Holy drizzle me finds
Happening caused by the outpouring outside,
Sometimes me by Her Bless,
Wears a weary sleepy balmed dress...
And in that sleep me finds
My soul with Freedom entwined...
As free a sleep rests on completeness
Of a world without chaos, pains and stress...

As harmony natural caused by Sprite,
On streets hold only lights
Of an evening so beautiful,
As if with Peace there me feels the cool
Of a season so awesome, wonderous,
As if me hath through this life always passed...
In dreams, in childhood verses,
in drawing pictures of my searches...
Of a journey of a return kind
Where with happiness one gets truely blind...
Where sheuli falls eternal,
Where a tree at the yard stays fragrant all the times...

C'est la vie,

Loving You,
Is living Happy,
Wet by dews sappy,
My trunks,
Filling my shoes,
Loving You,
Is feeling your dews,

Your dust, and sands, and slush,
Your dirt, dart, and that glassy megamart,

Loving you is like taking
Yet not blown out,
And blowing still
Where Your winds drives the mill,
To energy,
To work,
To more of Your Holy Spark...

Loving You
Is loving you without fear,
Like writing you on leaves,
On trees, on this autumnal sky,
Loving You,
Is like always having a flight,

Loving you,
Is loving every part of this Big World,
Loving you,
Is knowing where Hopes with Faith hold You,
Loving you, life
Is feeling within
The birth of a Kite.

Quench this thirst, if You, be the kind,

Quench this thirst mine,
Goddess of perpetual shine,
If You be The Kind,
Fill me with life
So, that to Your Fete
me lies low, in your bless
Finds me a write up like a trace
Of light itself,
In Your splendour, in Your ball of shine,
me sleeps off like your child,
Cooled and calmed by Your perfumed breeze mild,
O Goddess of Perpetual Shine,
Lift me to your Divine,

Fill my mind with Your dyes,
White holding all colors,
In You help me find that eternal sky,

Quench this thirst
Fill me with life full of lust,
To travel closing the outside,
To travel to You The Unseen, The Light,
That makes rivers
To flow from hills to ocean,
That makes life as red
As a never ending martini glass of wine,

O Goddess of Perpetual Shine,
Fill me with pens to quench
This thirst,
make me to row boat mine till The Last.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Like Athena, ashine,

Like Athena,*
How You come in shape of a plate, sometimes,
On silvery scape, shining bright,
Your Face there carved,
Like an Art, so lit up, by the light,

Like Athena,
How knowledge of arts and crafts,
You upon me by essence drop,
A deep sense of Your eyes of mind,
O how you me there like a write bind,

And me thinks how in Your Birth You golden alphabets wrote
From Zeus how You fountains of knowledge growed,
Into works of minds and souls,
Into pots, plows, chariots and crafted bowls,
How You having only light
Spread owls wise, for the night,
And held, by Zeus allowed,
His thunderbolt,
How You charged it like a plough
On lands without any seeded birth, any rise,
How You held olive branches peaceful there like Your sighs...

( Note: *Athena: goddess of knowledge, daughter of Zeus;)

riding through the city lit up by Lights , of celebration,

Riding through *
The city
Lit up by Your awesome pity,
Your celebratory Lights,
Hanging tiny bulbs bright,
Yellow, white, bluish green,
Your mirth, wet wet on me like a cream,
Is my getting to you perfect,
Is my walking on your red, a carpet,

Riding through
The city,
Lit up by your festivity,
Your Bless, your piety,
Dressed in colors varied,
Feet of children running smiling hurried,
Is my rise to an occasion,
Is my rise to Your rhyme and reason,

Riding through
The cool breeze,
Like Your piano on me soul, without cease,
Your moves, your shining face,
Your lacquer, your grace,
Spread up till the end of the Road,
Is like me taking on to the world so broad,
Is like me receiving all daggers and swords,


As if me hath lost my bones,
As if me hath lost my skin,
As if me hath by You turned invisible,
Just a placid sea,
Just a misty fog, an ethereal screen.

( Note: *recollected memory of riding my motorcycle through the city, this evening, only, watching the city lighted up, this festive season)

Love, was it my wrong, that me finds You? In seas, forests, parchments?

Why you come so much to me?
Why you come like this evening, dewy?
Do You know not?
My heart is little a space
To hold You there
So vast? Like that sky?
Like that ocean ?
Which in Your eyes me sees every season?
Love, why You pour such?
Your wine,
Your silky touch...
Your song of Dolphin...
A call to go to the sea,
A call to wander to the forest,
Where leaves moist drenched wear a parchment?
Knowing me,
Knowing my miniscule existence,
my cramped room,
You come such?
Why You come blowing a cool?
Why me finds colored flowers blooming beneath
Your transparent waters...
Your softest palms
You rest just beside my writes...
pens mine dipped in colors of your eyes,
Where derives only a metaphysical wide,
Tying me with You,
O The Holy Tide!

You the All Knowing,
The Unknowing,
Bestow your kindness on my eyes,
Like Tears
From Heaven,
Shaman like?

(Note: The Goddess of Poesy, Art, )

is it not time to rain drops on me...a soul...from rain as same as You?

is it not time
to Love...
Rain ?
as Rain
drops on me soul
as The Same
as You?
is it not the same Rain
falling on you?

The You
where me finds
a scribble happening
like Rains from my autumnal sky...
a rain
of leaving some hopes to live for...
a rain
of living in hopes to get dyed...
a rain
drenching leaves outside...
a rain
writing a sketch
where soul rises...
where mind reaches out
above the Rest...
where the rains usher a festive dress...
as if life is just like that...
all through...
as rains forever is...

as autumn forever will be...
much like autumn last...
full of kash flowers...

as Nature...
where my joys sublime mix...

Monday, September 16, 2013

Loving You, is being irreligious,

Loving You,
Is like
Be ing
A being,

Loving You
Is like falling to You all times
Days nights evenings afternoons
Waking sleeping dreaming
You are there,
Just beside me,
A shadow of mine
Own, shining on my heart,

Loving you
Is like walking through the dust heat and rain
And yet never feeling any pain,

Loving you
Is like chanting a prayer for the whole world
To be Human, irreligious,
Deep just like Your awesome Eyes,
Where only Peace as Truth lies,

Loving you
Is feeling birth of flowers constant
Living every part of every instant,
As music lives, upon your leaves,
As paintings into you like me peeps,

Loving you
Is loving all the skies
Of all seasons, Autumn or Monsoon late,
Where Beauty in varied forms emancipates,

Loving You
Is staying
Just put,
With mirth
In your eyes.

Believe me, me is here to weep for You,

Believe me,
me is here
To weep
To You,
Where your pens like ice
you so beautifully keep,

Believe me,
me will weep
All times,
For You,

But for me
me not expect a single drop,
Of blood or rain,
For my pen writes
Weeping for you,
my pens write
Drinking Your Red Wine, *
Like Your Bless.

(Note: * Holy Blood,
Picture courtesy: Ann Carruth, a friend, thank you Ann)

Fiore di luna,

Like a moon flower drenched
By a drizzle across the fence,
Comes an evening,
For me to sing,
A tune,

Like a moon flower
Drenched by a drizzle cool
Comes an evening,
For me to sketch
An escape,

Like a moon flower
Comes a shower,
On my soul,

As me glides
Through the city,
Lighted by

( Note: based on a real time moon hovering, and a song me listening, while returning home.)

Dear, let me suggest a walk, in search for a red red dusk,

Let me suggest a walk,
A different one,
To a red red dusk,
In search of Clive street,
Within this city the same,
Only time getting reversed to 1937,
Let me hold You there like a poetic heaven,
To climb to your red red shore
Of a poet, who painted red the city poor,

Dinesh, a poet of a dusk,
Let me hold You there unasked,

Hold me hands, O autumnal sweet rain,
Hold me there to search Dinesh again,
A virgo by birth, a poetic sting, a pain,
Hold me to His inglorious pen,
By which He found once how people came and went,
How this city carried hundreds 'snake like veins,'
Carnage where burst bloody red,
On Clive Street, where His sickles he bred,

Hold me there, O my Damsel fair,
Hold me there, like a Love burnt dare...
On a red red dusk, a  Dinesh Das,*
Hold me to make Your Sea, sanguine unasked.

( Note: *my  tribute to Dinesh Das, a revolutionary poet, who was born on16th Sept,1913, at Chetla, Kolkata. He created a stir, in 1937, by the publication of his poem called 'kaastey', meaning sickle. )

Looking at Your Godly Face, looking at Your solo performance,

Looking at Your smiling Face,
Looking at Your solo performance,
Your fingers running cool,
From one string to another pool,
Like a pure unadulterated song,
Looking at Your lyric sublime long,
Is finding meself into You,
Walking on the ocean,
Serving life with lovely potion,

Seeing those spotlights on You,
Divinity falling only only upon you,
On a stage, a podium lifted,
Music clinging to Your throat so gifted,
Is also a desired expected supranormal journey
For your scrapbook, and the book written on me,

Looking at You, a ballad singer, weaving your lores,
Is also for me a boatride to the worldly shores,
Where sands of times glitter, with only hopes.

Your light lights me, the world,

Your light,
Lights the world,
And me too,
And the leaves wet by heavy dew,

Your light...
Light up the sky,
The flowers,
The misty curtain,
The symphony certain,
In all works, in all minds,
Your light
On all forms shine...

Like shines a day,
Like shines a note,
Like with tune a feather white floats,
Like a song sings for Self,
Like a foot taps in the deep of a rhythm delved,
Like a poem smiles by being a simple poem,
Like a link of a mind unleashed prays a cohen...

Your light
Scattered through all spaces,
How stitches newer dresses,
For me, for you, for all,
How festival called Life makes always a footfall...

Bhairabi, a raga,You*, a morn,

Your voice moves,
A time tested classic
On me this morn
Like Bhairabi, a  stream,
A raga which keeps life
With life by intricate ups to the fullest,
A wordless pure of wordless pattern,
A sharp reach, a rippling fall,
A dewy autumn,

Your morning dawns,
Like a beautiful freedom,
In dust, in music, in raga,
A Bhairabi stream,
Keeping the journey
Always within,
From which the fountain gushes,
A smooth sail through rosy cheeks, myrtles,

Your voice moves,
A time tested exercise,
On me causing a mirthful rise,
Like finding strings how upon plucked,
Cause waves into the misty air minor to sharp,
A birth of music how on notes get a form,
You in me set a bhairabi strong...

( Note: *You: a raga, bhairab)

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Like an objective co relative,*

Like an objective
If me says
To spend you night and days
As spends the energy of a mass
To pure light,
Like an objective
If me says
To send you dizzy to the stars,
Where the sky soothes like a cooled down Mars,
How would you me receive?

Knowing the Unknowing
Is a pleasant thing,
For it brings all,
The seasons of mirth
The heaviest rainfall,
The tune of heaven
In every possibility Even,

As happens
me looking at the widest me,
Growing up,
Always like a poetic flame,
Tamed by bonds of my childhood,
Rediscovered in me and in you,
Calmed by the purest bliss
Of joys of mortal life
Death occurs where like a priceless cease,

If me calls you
By Your artful chants,
If me finds You in deserted sands,
If me smiles at even the dark,
How will you call, me, in what name?
A spark?
A ray?
A luminous frenzy?
A speaker Altec Lansing# ?
A drumbeat of Self?
A too proud a pelf?

For life is just a journey,
For you,
For me,
For all creatures,
Can you not that see?
How The Omnipotent had such devised
Every thing like a fall and rise?
How a process recyclic constant works?
How we all are bound by The Unbound, Marked?

Like objective corelative
Musically poised,
We move on to this journey such choiced,
Like art and sculpture and paintings write
Eternal forms in temporary slides,

Let me sing more for You,
Let me bow more at You...
Let me be, at this state of wonder,
Let me stay, as completely bewildered,
And let me paint smiles all over this earth,
Let me shoot sparks from unextinguished hearth...
Till me dies,
By You.

( Note: * objective Corelative: a literary term,
#Altec Lansing: a sound system company, a brand, )

Sometimes like a wine, She looks at me eyes, pouring,

Like a wine,
A flame by Her art,
Her white flannel Shirt,
Her smiling light,
Like an evening this,
She pours her Self,
Onto me,
Telling me,
A story,
Of her own,
Yet vaccumed ...

'I never told ya,
How much I loved...
That happiness that dispersed
Through the air, thin,
Yet so so ignited
Like a beam,
Like cards laid up
On a table,
A party of playing a hand or two,
You calling a bluff,
Me adding a few,
A Bridge, a reading session,
A mystic motion
Dressing me,
Like a Sea,

Opening them one by one,
On the table,
A reading glass,
A birth of a poetic brush,
Sketching stories of wonder,
Like reaching to those clouds
Of  southern hemisphere,
Where a little river
Flew by our lives of Faith,
O I how left all things Unsaid,
For You, to collect like opened palms,
For You, to read there my psalms,
For You, to shape up our forefathers,
For me to read like a true astrologer,
For you to plant seeds of awakening,
For me to leave poetry of dravidan lining,
For you to wander to the forest, to sands, to storms, to hurricanes,
For me to monitor your curious changes,
For you to go happy like a Virgo,
For me to look at your Unseen eyes,
For you to sing for my Unhindered mind,
For me to look at your visor strong,
For you to see through my sitting on a rock,
For me to remeasure rescale reevaluate receive your rise to Hope,
For you to look at my unraveled telescope,
For me to catch those starry dust from sky,
For you to click a shutter on my flight,
For me to keep tabs on you, yet never telling you,
How in my cottage fell your wintry dews...
How from works me set aside still
Some poems by me
On my window sil,by western frontier,
Reddened by a gust of blowing wind...'

Like a wine,
She pours
Her art,
Her Whitest shirt,
Her Poetic Mirth,
Her Winged Flights,
Onto me,
And me
on philosopher's stone
A line with gold discovers...

Watching you, simply,

Watching You,
Your ways
In simple things
Is perhaps the only way,
To go near You,
Up close , impersonal,

Like watching in the sky,
Your paints autumnal,
And feeling the wind into me,
Carrying You, your scented journey,

In simple things,
You come,

To me, on a fun filled dusk,
Like little ripples
On waters, supple,
Like a strong flavour of a musk,
A car flying by the road, pretty, in glory basked,

Like little children making merry,
Playing around, hide n seek,with feets* in hurry,

Like wavy hair resembling a cascade,
Walking lazily, what a fate!

Like the yellowish orangy twilight
Falling on a lit up face, slight...

Like this free flowing musical harmony,
On a painted skyline, sans felony,

Like finding the kid's cycle
Never ever falling idle,

In simple things
You come
To me...

In Your simple ways...
In purest presence,
In  lucid sense,
In moving gait,
In never wanting strait, 
In beatings of the Unheard rhyme,
In brows so by lines entwined...
In bangles,coppery ornate on wood,
In mirrory life, eyes holding me so good...

Find me always
In simple candid ways...

At home,


In the world...

In designs,

In craft...

In Genesis,

In Art.

( Note: *feets : not typo, intended, 

The photo attached was taken by me,

the objects in the picture, belong to my better half,
Only me took a click and did an edit,

♡ ya, Soma, what more can me say? )

Looking at You, me sings like a bird,

Looking at Your path,
me sings like a bird,
Looking at Your ways,
me like a swing sways,
Feeling You within like a mirth,
me takes to flowery surge,

Keep on Going You, Love,*
For you me flies like a dove,

Keep on waking me up, Windy blow,
For You, me keeps on sleeping to a poetic flow,

Keep on charging me like photonic burst,
For You, me Beauty and Truth and Eternal discovers,

Keep on keeping me to this joyous State,
For You, me like a paint bucket times roman stays,

Keep on planting into me Your Soul tuneful,
For there me lives colored by music full,

Keep on,
For you me on leaves of autumn
Like a Sun Day,

(Note: * Love as Soul, as Agape, As Universal, As Peace, as Art, As Creativity)

Half sleepy leave You the smile on me...

Half sleepy how You*
Leave on me the smile,
How You create mirage
By spreading Your glory golden large...
How You drop a kiss on my lids of eyes,
As times of Autumn takes me to your skies...

Half sleepy how the city wakes,
How on leaves me a poem like breaks,
How the sweet glittering mist of the morn, a balm,
Takes me again to Your Holy charms,
And me by your Spell bound,
Takes to the road where life touches The Unbound.

(Note: * Sun God, )

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Hold me before the simmering light, of this cool night,

Hold me before the simmering light
Dripping from the lamp post white,
Halogenic paint on the bridge running up
Hold me tight,
Like lifting me to the world another
Where me carries me always like a feather,

Hold me before the simmering light
Dripping from the post of a lamp white
wonderous a city drenched by festive bright,
Hold me tight,
Like taking me to those shopping bags merry,
To those beautiful glowing faces buying berries,

Hold me before an occasion of autumn
People in  a spree buying up so many things
Sarees silky, ornate designs on ear rings,
Hold me there,
Like holding me against Your happiness fair,
Where me finds blissful celebration,

Hold me like an occasion...
Hold me like a motion...
Hold me simmering before the light,
Hold me in Your smiling joyous bright.

In silence How everything gets a tune,

In silence
How everything gets a tune,
In silence
How life in buds bloom,
In silence
How the sky fills my mind,
In silence
How me travels by Your wings,like a shine,
In silence
How happiness on a mellowed river gleam,
In silence
How deity You stillness musical, sacrosanct bless,
In silence
How eyes hold an oceanic scape,
In silence
How crystals stones keep
In silence
How birdlings in nests sleep,
In silence
How smallest becomes a distance,
In silence
How comes a befitting poetic trance,
In silence
How miracle glows like a ringed Sun,
In silence
How roads of life to You turn.

La belle Nature...

This morn,
Help me, You adorn,
In my ways of an effort
To understand ways of God,
Upon You, Nature,
how He serves a golden bod,
This morn,
Help me, You, reborn,
In Hopes as lessons of Life,
As servitude to The Lord's kindness, a life,
Help me to just sit quiet
Trying to be into Your wonder,
This morn, my mind let me by lust of life, wander...

This morn,
Help me, You adorn
Help me, You, reborn,
To Trust, to Love, to Smiles,
To make a Fanciful Flight,
To be there where clouds write
Universal truth,
Where triumph lies with only delight...

This morn
Make me
From all dins and bustles,
This morn
Make me
Only leaves how rustle...

This redness of a sail, this kash flowery escape, this glide,

This redness of my sail,
This kash flowery autumnal escape,
This blue white cottony mirth,
This wonderous songy birth,
This glide down the rivers,

This life blessed tranquil evangelic,
This scented journey to a silence platonic,
This awesome overwhelming festivity,
This falling in love with life with childish spontaneity,

Keep me there,
me prays,
This day,
Like always,
All days,
Keep me here,
Where with Peaceful trance me lays,

Upon Your celebratory warmth,
By Your Holiness forever charmed,

So that me can surely be,
In You living, dying, dyed,
In you me leaves a long poetic write-

Of Your ocean,
Of Your colored ways,
Of Your goodness by art said,
Of your music by Holy Sermons Relaid,
Of your alphabets bearing my ink,
Of Your screening
Of a Lemniscate where me ~
                                                         By Your Lyric

Looking into You, kid, is like having a reincarnation,

Looking into your joys kid,
Hitting a wonderous street,
Is like reincarnation,

Looking into Your eyes,
Where me resides,
On a beauteous morn,
Is a sabbat the same for me,

Looking into Your innocence
Is like me having a journey to minds of all children,
How You all come together,
To make this World a Heaven...

Looking into your state,
Is like me living wide awake,
Relishing Happiness unbroken...

( Note: the photo attached is taken by me, as me and my kid, Mayoukh, alias Goltai alias kittu alias Sunny, go out for a ride down the road,this morn, which has been a wonderous journey, )

Friday, September 13, 2013

Like an original score,an effusion,

O You
The Queen of the Night,
How You in me set
An Original score
A tune,
So so soft,
That me feels
me has been turned a drop
Of a feather,
A light weightless Be ing,
A meaning
Of only words,
No noise,
No voice,
Only an essence,
A sleepy dreamy balmy feel
Felt only by a soul,

An original score
How You in me pour,
A burdenless free vapour,
A misty autumnal layer,
Spreading out like a perfume,
From a drop so miniscule
To mix with the atmosphere,
A diffusion,
An elation carrying no pull,
No gravitation,
Only an effusion,

O how You turn me ether,
By Your Ethereal tune,
An original score.

Let me sing a dream for you,

Let me sing
A dream for you,
A dream as seen
Under a silvery beam
Of a moon,
Of a full,

This late evening,
A weekend as the days bring,
Let me sing
A dream
For you,

A half
Of a full,

Thinking You,
Let me weave
A wine
A drip
Through the veins of leaves,
A seeping feel
Like a song
A mild shiver,
A soothe of a flowing stream
Into you,

Let me sing for You,
Calling angels
To help you
Close your weary eyes,
So you can feel this late evening sky...
All over you,
Draping you with a shine,
A soft illume
Of a moon,
A tune...

And perhaps
By this sleep
You me will evoke
Like another enchantment,
A nightly warmth of a cloak,
A comfort
Like arms,
Holding you,
Making you
To reach,
The Holy Shrine,
By silvery shine
So enriched...

Let me sing
For you,
As sings a dreamy mist
This late evening,
Overwhelmed by
An enterprise
Of a selene
Half of a full,
So differently lyrical,
So wonderful,
A night coming
To be The Beautiful.

Sipping carajillo, like an afternoon,

Sipping carajillo
Like an afternoon
This, me thinks,
Coraje me needs,
And also coffee seeds
To work work from morn till night,
It had been all the days,
All the nights perhaps,
For sleep is like another work
Going to You,
To get Your Touch,
To get to the land of the Infinite,
To rest like death,
A recharge...

Only to move on again...
Getting into me all those pens
That write stories on roads, walls, streets,
Seeing glee how with smiles meet,
How people shake hands saying
'We are finally here!'
How the sky gets somewhere dark
How without clouds there stays thunderspark,
How people try hard to get back to shores
How people fight back all unnecessary chores,

But then
Afternoons like these,
Sipping carajillo wish
To give away if me can
The hard learned things to all me meets,
Wish just to plant a kiss on the palms of You,
For without Your Bless,
Your Godly sense,
There would not have been any rise,
There would not have been any meaning,
Of my living thus,

me prays
For more pens
To arrive in me,
So me writes
On all roads,
All skies,
Only Your Happiness,
Only Your Holy Sense,
Only Your Silence.

Let me walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You,
Let me have a walk
On all streets, painted new,by Your Golden dew,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You,
Through all alleys, avenues,
You only holding The Cue,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me hold Your hand soft,
Where hold Self in proper form,
Where you change me like a sign of a Morn,
Let me have a walk to a birth by You, The Bourne,

Let me hear You in my voice,
Where keep angels of happiness by Choice,
Where you keep all of Your Joys,
Let me have a walk to that poise,

Let me listen to Your heartful of Beats,
Where keep all Your glorified Feats,
Where You cause a Philadelphia stream,
Let me feel Your deified Beams on me skin,

Let me become a song, a mind, 
Where You, with laughter lammas 15 me bind,
Where You, reaches me for atonement,
Let me have a walk to Your Cosmic sense,

Let me have a walk with You,
Where You, move me to a Bliss,
Where You plant an autumnal flavour unleashed,
Let me have a walk with you, to life, holding my keys,

Let me have a walk with you,
Where there is no dearth of merry fruitfulness,
Where there is no lack of happy tears,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You eternal,
Where on a street, children play and people run by footfalls,
Where popcorns burst and candy floss  forever fly,
Let me have a walk to Your awesome sky,

Let me have a walk to a dream,
Where you stand like a song heard, felt, The Unheard, Unseen,
Where pavement bears octagonal slides of a design,
Where You like an Architect, build Hopes and Faith fine...

Let me have a walk with you...

Let me walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You,
Let me have a walk
On all streets, painted new,by Your Golden dew,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You,
Through all alleys, avenues,
You only holding The Cue,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me hold Your hand soft,
Where hold Self in proper form,
Where you change me like a sign of a Morn,
Let me have a walk to a birth by You, The Bourne,

Let me hear You in my voice,
Where keep angels of happiness by Choice,
Where you keep all of Your Joys,
Let me have a walk to that poise,

Let me listen to Your heartful of Beats,
Where keep all Your glorified Feats,
Where You cause a Philadelphia stream,
Let me feel Your deified Beams on me skin,

Let me become a song, a mind, 
Where You, with laughter lammas 15 me bind,
Where You, reaches me for atonement,
Let me have a walk to Your Cosmic sense,

Let me have a walk with You,
Where You, move me to a Bliss,
Where You plant an autumnal flavour unleashed,
Let me have a walk with you, to life, holding my keys,

Let me have a walk with you,
Where there is no dearth of merry fruitfulness,
Where there is no lack of happy tears,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You eternal,
Where on a street, children play and people run by footfalls,
Where popcorns burst and candy floss  forever fly,
Let me have a walk to Your awesome sky,

Let me have a walk to a dream,
Where you stand like a song heard, felt, The Unheard, Unseen,
Where pavement bears octagonal slides of a design,
Where You like an architect, build Hopes and Faith fine...

Let me have a walk with you...

Let me walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You,
Let me have a walk
On all streets, painted new,by Your Golden dew,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You,
Through all alleys, avenues,
You only holding The Cue,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me hold Your hand soft,
Where hold Self in proper form,
Where you change me like a sign of a Morn,
Let me have a walk to a birth by You, The Bourne,

Let me hear You in my voice,
Where keep angels of happiness by Choice,
Where you keep all of Your Joys,
Let me have a walk to that poise,

Let me listen to Your heartful of Beats,
Where keep all Your glorified Feats,
Where You cause a Philadelphia stream,
Let me feel Your deified Beams on me skin,

Let me become a song, a mind, 
Where You, with laughter lammas 15 me bind,
Where You, reaches me for atonement,
Let me have a walk to Your Cosmic sense,

Let me have a walk with You,
Where You, move me to a Bliss,
Where You plant an autumnal flavour unleashed,
Let me have a walk with you, to life, holding my keys,

Let me have a walk with you,
Where there is no dearth of merry fruitfulness,
Where there is no lack of happy tears,
Let me have a walk with You,

Let me have a walk with You eternal,
Where on a street, children play and people run by footfalls,
Where popcorns burst and candy floss  forever fly,
Let me have a walk to Your awesome sky,

Let me have a walk to a dream,
Where you stand like a song heard, felt, The Unheard, Unseen,
Where pavement bears octagonal slides of a design,
Where You like an architect, build Hopes and Faith fine...

Let me have a walk with you...

Autumn is flying kites,

Autumn is flying kites Unstrung,
To get the feel of the skies,on song,

Autumn is finding reasons
To live blessed for all seasons,

Autumn is catching a super six highway,
Beside which kash flowers forever in the cool breeze sway,

Autumn is standing under a tree
Showering blessing like falling leaves on me,

Autumn is hearing the beats of drum,
Calling me out to Goddess there with ten arms,

Autumn is a season for photography
Finding colors in faces of the moving city, so happy,

Autumn is falling in love with life more
Like finding how music in the air soars...

Autumn is another youth of me running
Autumn is a season of writing You, much like a Spring,

Autumn is reaching a Fountainhead,*
Autumn is by the river me on soft mud laid,

Autumn is flying to a picture of a dream
Autumn is finding Zeus there at a crossing, like a scene.

( Note: Fountainhead: a  fiction by Ayn Rand)

You how write colors, You how me hold,

You how write colors
In me, in my sea
Of eyes, where you light
Your diamonds bright,
Every moment,
O how You come
Like lighted dawns,
To drop Your arms
Upon me, shoulders mine,
To hold me up,
To Your Divine,

And me
Becomes the air,
me runs the road of life
With breeze of autumn
Through my hair,

You how shower
Scent of shiuli,
From Your Heavenly Bower,
Like Truth of a Beauty,
And me is reminded
Of that tree,
Underneath which me
Finds child me,

me finds You
There, spreading Your Autumnal layer
Of dews Infinite sparkling
Like drops of ether condensed,
O how my childhood in You,
Every Autumn me sense,

and me finds that lane,
Like a rivery flow going
Forever going,
From past to present
To futurity,
O how Your autumn
Helps me find my city,
Drenched in festive joys of life,
Touching me with a sky blue white,
And also with an inexpressible mirth,
Like a morn breaking to a faith of a Birth,

And me finds how balloony hopes
Float up from me,
Colored by You,
Your Eyes deep
Like a sea.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

An afternoon, a picture, a post,

Like a round ball of gold,
The autumnal afternoon peeped onto me,
Like a sweet greeting,
Of love so moving,
So all encompassing,
That me woke up,
From work,
Papers me set aside,
And His hide and seek
Me with joy watched awhile...
Life me watched awhile,
Time golden me watched awhile...

Lets make a journey,

Such a glorious day,
Such a sun lit afternoon
Of an autumn,
What about making a journey?
You would just unfurl The Sail,
And me would go, rudderless,
For the journey deserves that,
A journey to One own self,
A journey into one's own soul...

The ocean would be turbulent,
Ego would come as a big wave
To drown me,
Then there would be
Crashing onto me
To shred me to pieces,
Mincing me meat,

You would just unfurl the sail,
Your white,
Your supreme awareness
Of all,
And me would make the journey
For You would be there
To tame and cure
All unrests,
All meaningless,
All decadence,

Once You would me hold
There, rudderless me
Would be
me knows
That journey
Calls for every day,

and every word
Every picture
Every thing,
Would make there a contribution,
For there lies your blessing,
Your benediction...

And me would go
By the wind,

me would on pages unbound
Travel to spaces,
To times,
To monuments,
To science,
To origin,
To characters,
To life,
To love.

Kindness, in Your eyes, inspire...

Kindness in Your Eyes,
Inspires shadowy bring,
Like Knowing
Your Holy Exist,
Like Comforting a light trace,
Like An Outpour
Of a Jacobean ecstasy,
Like Believing
Life not as a passe`,

This Your Omnipresence,
A growth drops like knowledge,
To where seas with width
Of skies get a symmetry,
Where Your Feet step up only Poetry,

This Your Eternal
A Bell like in me tolls,
Waking up to The Connect,
Where Lethe sleeps with an idea of a sonnet,
Not written ever by me,
But felt in veins with Your warmth, a satiety...

This Your Breath
Where taketh away me occupied,
me longs for You, The Void,
me longs for You, The Unbreakable, Alloyed,

And Kindness
In Your Eyes
Inspires wonderous a soul,
To get filled with psalms,
Songs, pictures, and clips of creative flow.

Sephulcral, You, carry me,

Sephulcral, You,
If you may, help me sew
Hollow Holy rites,
Like words, like ink,
Where Your scriptures You keep,
Where You me to the Fancy lift,

Carry me
To that entombed place,
Where Your Divinity You keep,
And me there help embrace
A song,
A write really long,
To fill all pages white,
To fill pages with Your kindness, bright...
To sing a tune of an enchantment,
To rhyme a perfection of fulfilment,
To harmonise life with elements of Nature,
To weave a long tale of myth, dreams and a docufeature,
To paint the best of times in alphabets gold,
To converse with you, soul to soul,
To create a trance sitting on a stone,
To cause a drench to the purest of the bones,
To join life with the glowing, flowing, rivery escape,
To create the  illusory real big to make a wide landscape,

Sephulcral, You,
Help me,
This morn,
To sew,
Life woven with life,
Writes long to fill my pages white.

Such a morn, such a sky, such a start,

Such a morn,
When You like a Bless shine,
Like a worship strung, of beads,
What am i to do?
Barring becoming a soul of a seed?

Such a cool
When like soft drum beats,
You tap on me,
What am i to do?
Barring following Your flute?

Such a shadowy path
Whence You spread up,
Like a cover,
What am i to do?
Barring from all works laid off?

Such a festive calm,
Whence You all over the sky paint,
Like an autumn,
What am i to do?
Barring Following You?

Such a lovely green,
Whence You on soft wavy grass
By Your kindness bring,
What am i to do?
Barring for You sing?

Fill me with the light of the day,an invocation,

Fill me
With the light of the day,
The spectrum that carries life,
The shower that carries joyous stream,
Fill me
With the awesome thing...

Fill me
With mist that drops sparkle on the fields,
The mist that makes the air moist,
The foggy light with which the dawn plants joys,
Fill me
With the wholesome thing...

Fill me
With the splendour of the day,
The bright that writes another write,
The river that carries away all the worldly plight,
Fill me
With the dews of the morn bright,

Fill me
With the awesome thing...
The call to the world of poesy,
The call to travel to dreams,
Fill me
With the stupendous thing,

Fill me
With songs hebraic,
The songs written like verses beautiful,
The music that leads life to the full,
Fill me
With eyes which life forever bring,

Fill me
With the wonderous thing,
The wonder of existence, divine,
The light of the Unchallenged, The Goldmine,
Fill me
With a throat to sing,

Fill me
With colory buckets of mirth,
Colors that evoke only birth,
Colors that make beauty of the earth,
Provide me
With a paintbrush such,

Fill me
With the awesome thing.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

When the night came young, caught between youth and stars,

When the night came young,
Like a diamond of a song,*
Caught between youth and starry dome,
me saw how my self piped
An evening blessed ripe,
For a sure and lengthy cut to my bliss,

Taking a road where autumn with rains mixed
Caught my mind off the cuff,
Caught my drenched moist sleeve,

And me thought of life
How beautiful like a boat it glides,
Through ripples slight
Shines under the silvery light,

A sickle of a dream perhaps there me bore,
Perhaps there me found a poem left on the shore...
By the night like a song,
On a written dictat, shining under a starry dome.

( Note: *on a song, )

You say it best, with silence,

You say it best,
With Silence,
Of Yours,
Like a drizzling beauty,
Shining washing a soul,
And filling me,
All the time
With Ink,
Like that ink
Gil perhaps poured
Over pages,
In his notes
Of a sabbat,

Writing to reach
The bliss,
Like that moisture
On rained leaves,
Like that Wednesday,
Wrote Eliot*
Unheard, Unspoken,
Commemorating a conversion,

And me writes
To Your silent garden's gate,
Heart and Mind
Like Truth in Your eyes,

You say it best,
With your drizzles,
On a Wednesday.

(Note: *T.S.Eliot, the poet,
The picture attached is from a book of notes, by Gil Van Wagner, a friend of mine, me worked a bit photographically, on the page. )

me longs for life, and in my engine heart, gasoline burns,like art,

me longs for life
And in my engine heart
Four valved,
Gasoline burns,
me longs for music
And in my musical heart
Tunes sketch songs,
me longs for water
And in my watery eyes
Bluish green deep lies,
me longs for kids,
And in their happy eyes' lids
me finds joys on the  street,
me longs for art,
And in my uncooped ever expanding heart,
Renaissance paintings spurt,
me longs for dawn,
And in my september drizzling morns,
Keatsean Grecian Urn to perennial turns,
me longs for flowers,
And in my flowery surge,
Garden of Eden in the city scape paints happiness Large,
me longs for flight,
And in me as supplied by You, The Light,
Like a prayer, heeded, wings of poesy me sights,
me longs for the mountain's glitter,
As You there drop snowy picturesque eon,
Immeasurable, loveseeped, beyond readings of lightmeter...

And me only bows,
And me only prays,
And me on my morn's mat lays,
And the world appears so, in rest,

Hope to meet You there, whence night meets the morn, when river falls to theocean,

Hope to meet You there,
Whence night meets the morn,
When river falls to the ocean,

Hope to get Your bless
Whence the city turns country,
And Nature mother like opens Her bounty,

Hope to sing like Reed,
Whence rains awakens the seed,
And words write Your Will, Your Deeds,

Hope to live in Your fragrant dream,
Where the sky expands like loving life untrimmed,
And scrapbook mine expands too to a lighted beam.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

In your sleepy eyes, kid,

In your sleepy eyes
me sleeps ,
In your soft cuddly fingers
Lain on the floor,
Child mine,
my fingers me put,
In your beauteous dream laden smile,
Child mine,
me smiles all keeps,
In your beating heart
Child mine,
me heart me lays,

And me
With you,
How sleep
O sleeping child mine,
And me knows
Milky ways will descend soon,
me knows,
Covery curtain of a tune,
Will make me swoon,
For you,
Sleeping child mine...
And horses will come
Running hopping speedying galloping
Through the clouds...

As within you,
Like a father yours,
me takes a sweet nap.

Once seen You like a walk, once seen You in me,

Once seen You like a walk,
Once seen You in me,
Walking, traveling,
Moving me
To the sea,
Where waves happen,
And waves deepen
To cause a birth
A surge
Like a beauty,

Once seen You like a path
Once seen You amidst the forest of March
Catching rays of the universe,
Wave like,
From You...

Once seen You,
In falling dews midnight
From Your hazel Eyes
Dazzling cool like a light
On water...

The rest
me lost in memory...
me lost in form of stories...

Wish to dip You in colors, life...

Wish to dip
In colors
Orange, green yellow, red,
blue, pink,

Wish to make You colory such
That there rainbows drop
To cause a touche
On me soul,
All the time,
But not by only colors lent,
But colors within true
Wish to spend,
On You,

Wish to dip you,
Into the profound
So you get life
Fullest flying homebound...
Or catching a sleep,
Or waking,
Or walking
Simply by Tiber's,

Wish to dip
Devoid of any strife,
Into colored an ocean,
Like a lovely painted scape...
Onto which light plays
Vibes Yours...

Have you felt the evening? Opening to eternality?

Have you felt this evening?
Like a petal
Of a blossom,
Drinking life's bless
To eternality...
Have you heard the song?
This flowing music blowing into me
And perhaps blowing in you, too...

Have you seen those colored pebbles?
Lying washed glittering bathed
Under the rivery flow,
Transparent blue,

Have you felt the numb?
Walking like tiptoeing into me heart?
This life calling more lifes more...

Have you felt and got drunk?
Taking into you
Like a songy poise?

Dance to the tune, dance to live,

Dance to the tune,
The evening calling me sings,
Dance to living,
Like waking
To believe
That life is wonderful
And we all beings
Are never leaving
Shut out
In clout
Of things...
For the evening sings
Dancing steps...

#For I had gone a hunter through the world

For me had gone a hunter
Through the world,

For me had my tents set
In every land,
For me had planted seeds of poetic flights
And happiness,
To make them real big,
Like trees,
Reaching up to the skies
East West alike,
Like songs,
Like music,
Like pictures,
Like dreams fantastic,
Like Fancy,

me lives,
me lives
In leaves...
And me departs oft,
And me drops,
Like feathers soft...

(Note: # a line quoted, from Love-lyrics and Songs of Proteus, )

Till the end of times, an olive branch will carry me...

Till the end of times,
me will carry an olive branch
For You,
For You symbolise
my rise,
For Your eyes hold me,
As Truth as omnipotent
As Love ,
As Life,
As Beauty...

Till the end of times,
you will find me,
Standing happy,
For You,
For Your wings You hath me kindly provideth,
For You called me to plunge to the Arabian depth,
For You blessed this planet at the moment of its origin,
For Your Splendour hath marked the all encompassing scene...

Till the end of times...

A birth of a morn, is de profundis,

A birth of a morn,
Is De Profundis,*
Out of the deep,
Living happy,
Being borne
By the lighted dawn,
Breaking with mirth,
A birth, like this,
A birth to greet
The Autumn with shiuli dreams,
In quiet fields
Of the city,
In quietness ,out of bounds,

A birth of a morn
Is de profundis,
Out of the deep,
Smiling at the exist,
Smiling at the very hour,
Whence Holiness the earth with silence showers,
Like a season's best compliment,
A glorious sense,
A sky with clouds non static,
A street, an avenue, trees lining drenched by calm,
A Sun waking up, such a beauty, charismatic,
From behind the dark, left over,
A birth of morn, like Eternal Nature Lover...
Reaching the last, the trance, the music,
Where we and Thou conjoined stay...

( Note: *De Profundis: by Tennyson, a poem, celebrating Birth, and life.)

Monday, September 9, 2013

Wish to write the fire in you, to paint the city new,

Wish to write that
Fire in you,
That burnt page which plants
In me
a furnace,
Glowing warm,
Gold like

Wish to write
That chimney
In you
Like a myth,
Once written
It will be consumed
By our destiny...

Wish to write
That city
Of nineteen eighty,
When rickshaws ran
Causing sweet sounds of bells,
Where two people sat
Closeted yet keeping their love

And pages both they
Burnt in holy waters of the river,

Wish to write
Something ancient,
Even before that,
When Ginsberg*
Came to meet
A sunlit shore,
Straightened, broad,
Away from this stagnation
Of never reaching stations,


Away from the religious non devotional songs
That blare like pole dance numbers...
So so meaningless,
So so decadent,

Wish to write
The whole space new,
Painted by burnt gold,
Of a page...
With life,
The Best.

( Note: the picture attached is from a book of poems, in bengali-my mother tongue, redone by me, photographically, as the scribble originates from there but takes its own flow soon after;

*Allen Ginsberg, the famous americanpoet.Ginsberg came to the city of joy, kolkata, and stayed at a place on Jessore Road, for quite a few months.Under his guidance, a new set of poets emerged, in the city.

He even wrote a poem on the place, the city, Kolkata.

Me wrote on that poem by Ginsberg, earlier, only reattaching a page from his book, as a suitable testimony.)

Why you cry? For me? Hey! take a shot for me, this songy afternoon,

Why you cry
For me?
This songy afternoon,
Take a shot for me
At that corner
Of that pub,

And i guess, Diana Krall might be played there loud,
To cause your tears forming clouds,
And that rainy icy moisture
On the outer surface of the glass
Might have passed
To your eyes, somehow...

But why?
you like a silly girl cry?
Take a shot for me,
At that corner
Of that pub,
Where my last cigarette stub
Still smoking , causes a faint art,
Just sit there
And take a shot for me...
For those shots
Could only make you,
A Diana Krall,
Like a song,
Like this beauty of a post noon,
Like a life...
Like a flow to art...
To sculpture,
To rhythm,
To reading,
To flowers blooming wet,
To scribbling,
To painting,
To camera lens,
To the streets where hunger cries,
To those eyes which are of kids,
To drumming beats,
To a Tagorean song,
To a fiery Lenon,
To festive morns,
To candlelit chinawares,
To smiles stuck on dreamy layers,
To happiness as Philos can create,
To the deep of a poem, once wrote a God, like Yeats,
To everything...
That me carries.

( Note : on a song, a mind and a situation imagined)

You wrote the first alphabet, me wrote pining...of a story.

You wrote the first alphabet
On page white like a cloud set
In the bosom of the sky,
And me worked
To make that
A rainbow, perfect,

You wrote a song
In throat of a cuckoo,
On a tree perched
And me worked
To make haply that
notes running high and flat,

And the rest turned a history,
A myth, a dream,
A pining...
A coffee table book,
An elm by the brook,
A cool breeze,
A picture by times freezed,
A calligraphic art,
A technology smart,
An autumn near,
A stormy tear,
An Oxford '57 short hand,
A known never traveled land,
A cursive youngish old,
A tattooed mind cold,
A monsoon undying,
A limitless shine,
An universe,
A biblical verse,
A written lore,
A story...

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Lets talk Inclusions

This evening
When it is raining,
How about talking,
-About 'Inclusions,'*
Dropping your pale hand
Onto my corned hand,
Where stones formed
By your Elizabethan pine,

This evening,
When it is raining,
How about talking?
Like my stream
Carrying Your pebble existence
As flows life through the street,
As part of my hands
With your hands mix,

And the other part
Of me
Forming an art...
Writing thinking etching on soul

( note: *Inclusions: by Elizabeth Browning,
Interestingly enough R. Tagore cited part of it , in his one essay on poetry and art of poetry and the role of a poet.)

A letter that Saki never ever wrote...

Got into a letter
Like a perfect traitor
Telling how life betrayed
Him, burma teak,
Still on pages how gracefully He sticks,
Crying against bullets
For Peace...

All the citizens of the world,
Stop firing guns,
All the decree holders of the Globe
Stop hunting Syria,

You merchants of acidic foeticide,
In the name of merchandise
Stop your outreach progroms
For occupation is rising
Right there over your heads,
For your profiteering genocide
Is taking no one no where...

You modern white colored dhotis
Wipe your glasses clean, and tone down bills
On your prolific janseva and imported e-class sedans,
Your smooth neo gandhian mercedes,
For occupation is rising on the streets,

You snipers
Put that damn cigarette out!'

Got into this
The last cry of Saki...
On papers
Colored and burnt
Sepia old
But fonts still there holding gold,
His unconventional bold.

(Note: this one is upon discovering Saki's last words,
The picture attached is a work done by me,a bit of camera work and photo edit,)

When Love enters the soul, there is only genesis...

When Love Of Life,
Enters into one's soul,
life becomes light itself,
Life onto palms infinite holds...

And then with all possibility
Sun rises happen,
Sunsets too,
Silver and Gold,
All fall in places due,

Clouds float in eyes,
Heavens never die,
Shadows suit the purpose
Of times, lighted on golden dust,

And genesis takes to visions...
And visions to flights bring all seasons,

When Love For Life
Enters into one's mind
Beauty one with forever binds,
And songs and music arrive never late,
Papers, fountains, leaves, writes, all work
Towards festivity and feast, towards a Fate,
Towards life's lyrics, a perfect lease...

Saturday, September 7, 2013

The Device,

He looked at The Device
How restful there It lies
Restive, opened to the Charms
Of Life, silent, still,
Kept on the Window-sil,

Where once He built

Only Love

he looked at the device
How there beautifully it lies
Happy by itself
Woven to the Myths and Dreams.

In between...

In between,
Morn and evening,
An afternoon to a song
Merry fruitfulness proclaims,
And flowers surely bloom
In a closed non external room,
For mind whence possess satiety,
He travels in simple steps gigantic,
He moves from Himalayas to Atlantic,
In few seconds...

Friday, September 6, 2013

An ode to Facebook

Hail to thee
You almost turned me a book,
There on 'whatz in your mind' thing...
What not You for me hath brought,
Critiques long enough
To be a draft with edges rough
Of a middle sized commentery,
Of psychoanalysis post mortem
Almost a never ending life documentery...

O Hail to thee Facebook
My blogs, my writes, pictures,
You how turned to create surtures...

Hail to thee
For You also made me
An Elvis,(someone suggested, heartily,)
A legend,
A Gift,
A Sun,
A Morn,
A Speck of Hope,
And Angel of Love...

Hail to thee,
For You caught me
And You set me free,

Now after being involved
With You,
By voiceless silence
By mere words, a scribbling sense,
For many many years,
Holding me,
Lifting me,
Making me proud,
Making me an evangelist,

Time hath come,
To write something long,

So a brief refuge
O Facebook
Let me take into
Something longer,

Writing me soul
Into papers non digitised,
Non Zuckerberg-ish,
For times are running out,
And my writes are not waiting either...

Me goes out
With a stronger bond
With You,
For You me to the World took...

( Note: just another scribble, thought it was pending, for all my blog outputs, are networked primarily through Facebook, a social networking site, )

This Autumn, this festivity, this flowing mind,

This Autumn, this festivity, this flowing mind,
Wishes me, could catch you , infect you,
As infects a book of hidden dreams,
As infects a suppressed mirth Unseen,
As infects a Sun rise from behind the shining hills,
As infects fever of a waking up to a birth,
As infects a flying dupatta in a breezy upsurge...

This Autumn, this festivity, this flowing lines,
Sketches holy on me, You The Beautiful,turned more by saffrony rhymes,
As painted by an artist on a piece of a cloth draping the street
Of the city going to work, checking in and out, hurried feet,
As caught me eyes at a mall hanging curtain like
A paint, a picture, a rhythm, a joyous festival by folk prints dyed...

(Note: the photo attached is that of a hand printed cloth, a folk art, found  by me at a shop, on the street, hanging sweet in the breeze.
The painting on the cloth, is of Goddess Durga, the Destroyer of Evil, The Mahishashuramardini, The Goddess of Autumn, The Power Incarnate.  The Image of Devi Durga has been used widely in varied art forms in  this part of the World)

Time after time,

Time after time
If you fall behind,
If the clock ticks
Like Lauper,
wishes me could stick,
To catch Your hands running times
To catch you there falling behind,
Time after time,

(Note : on a song by C.Lauper)

The way You painted footprints on me,

The way You,
Painted Footprints
On me soul,
Like a mosaic,
A pattern
Of Your awesome,
Of your orangey gold,
That me thought
me could never turn fruitless,
me could never go useless,

For You hath planted
Your Footprints on me

And me promises,
me will rise
Rise to the kisses
Of Your Bless,
Your kindness,
Your occasion,
Your orangy lotion,
Your red prespective,
Your blue white stones,
Your flowers showery...

me promises
Me self...

( Note: the painting attached is a gift received by me, from a poet, a friend, Luana Stebule, thank you Luana)

Carrying Your name, is a journey so,

Carrying Your name
In sanguine veins
Is a journey so,
That me rhymes and verses sows,
At the footboard of the moving bus,
Where life flows, hanging precarious,

Carrying Your name
In sanguine veins
Is a journey so,
That me becomes a joyous windy blow,
Like this morn descending like a sylph
A Friday dressing, colored by Love,a Belief,

Carrying Your name
In sanguine veins
Is a journey so,
That me flies through concrete forest like a doe,
Spotted dots of white on me orangy brown skin,
A golden shine, on me soft fur, a light beam,

Carrying Your name
In sanguine veins
Is a journey so...
That in you me my self shows
Like that swing attached with another at the park,
Like that song unpremeditated, of a Skylark.

In the name of Love *

In the name of Love, the passion which governs All things human and natural too I rise everyday to find how the glorious sun Brings beaut...