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 beauty of morning for all to view,

I think of that Love which binds man
All over the world, from East to West
I think of that World which we possibly can
By our Love, make wonderous and truly blessed,

If poetry is the cause, Rose I think as effect
For its beauty I hold and its wonder my words reflect,

Rarely have I passed a day when I did not write
Over and again I keep on writing on
So many things which give away light
Ethereal or earthly as they, in my words get born.
(* it is a roseate sonnet, as invented by Ampat Koshy and later practised and perfected by many. Many variants of this sonnet form have been created. This one is , however, as per the original form, i.e; two quatrains followed by a couplet then again a quatrain.)

Once on our way to khwai

Once on our way to Khwai

-----------------------------------------

Once on our way to Khwai

We were enchanted by the spring

The road with dreams did lie

Once on our way to Khwai,

We were kissed by the sky

And felt what beauty did it bring

Once on our way to Khwai

We got the rhyme of spring.

( it is a triolet poem having the rhyme scheme ABaAabAb)

A sojourn to remember

Of all those days which have etched
Indelible impressions on my mind
I know that day how did to us fetch
Heavenly wonder that did us bind,

It had been just after autumn
The sky was getting perfect
And we travelled to gather some
Hues with which nature decked,

We reached a cottage, at about ten
There we thought to stay for the day
Walking all the way through the lane
That had gone up there, merrily, so to say,

Outside that cottage there was a bench
We sat there stretching our legs quiet
Gathering how that perennial sense
Of serenity is kept by that day's light,

Later, much later, when the evening came
We again went outside to sit there
And found how the day's sky became
The sky of the night, wide, open, bare,

It had little dots,sparkling things
All over it so enchanting,
As if it told us that our sojourn
Had been a marvellous one,

And we just thought what it could be
That kept us soothed, giving satiety?
Then we looked around us and found
Again, how nature remained the same,
Calm, poetic, blessed, vast and profound.

The ballad of the sea

Seas have their own beauty
They make our earth blue
They make water for satiety
And make voyagers true,

Heard you've been to seas
For seven years you spent
You gathered how the breeze
Carried flowers and their scent,

There you've sung full throat
Several as they are found
Cyprus, Corfu, Lanzarote,
They all gave you colors profound,

And when you from there returned
You put your mind and soul to canvas
On it You created Godly hues that turned
A Beautiful World Humane and Vast.

( based on a painting done by luana Stebule)

A pinewood cabin , just beside Walloon

Just beside the lake of Walloon
At the porch of  that  pinewood cabin
When you come and sit for awhile
Looking at the beauty of the morning
Watching the flowers waking up
From their sleep and listening to those birds singing sweet
The birth of another day,
I am certain you then become a nature poet;

You , I am sanguine, then write verses in your mind-
those verses that say irrespective of place and time
Beauty of Nature remains like the sole guiding tune,
It causes a blessed emancipation
Which only gives one more of poetry,

At dusk too, after the day's works are done
When you sit at your writing desk,
You , I am sure, write down how on Walloon
The dusk gives leaves hues it has gathered on its wings,

Aha! Those hues!
How they make magical reflections,
How they make you a poet.

The boy and the mother at brick kiln

The boy and the mother at brick kiln*
-----------------------------------------------------------
Every day almost on making  journeys to and fro
Taking that road by the river
Find the two , the boy and the mother
At that slum beside that brick kiln,
In that shabby dingy place,
They two shine like meteors fallen on earth
In the morning, out of place ,
Shining still in their own halo,
The boy in his school dress
And the mother combing his unruly hair
Making him tidy.

At the evening , they look like two starlets no less
Or glowworms perhaps
The boy sitting at the dawa of their hut
With an oil lamp burning away
All toils of the day,
Vapour rising from its flicker of hope,
Reading a book or doing some lessons he learnt at school
And his mother sitting a few yards away
With a hand held palm leaf blowing soothing air to her child.
( * as submission to ' Are we mere spectators' anthology )

Dost

Dost*
---------
' kaise ho dost?'
( how are you friend?)
Is that what he would always begin with ,
My friend from another part of the world,
When we would meet ,
Crossing several fields
Like those two little boys
From two different sides
In a flick that championed the blooming of friendship despite odds;

I did not belong to his religion
He did not belong to my customs,
Yet we had been friends
For we met crossing fields several
While ploughing our lands,

We both had been farmers
Tilling the arid earth of our region
Toiling hard to grow green paddy ,

We met at sunrises
At sunsets too,
Crossing several fields,

And if we had some time to spare
We would both sit under a single tree
sheltering us from scorching heat of summer,
And sand mixed dust that blew from desert lands not faraway,
Talking about how the monsoon last year came good
And how we both reaped corns,

' kaise ho dost?'
I would also ask him
Sometimes
And he would smile.
(* Dost: friend,
Written for ' Kaafiya milaao ' )

Walking a few paces

Walking a few paces in haste
we are thinking we've seen the best,
Just then suddenly we arrived at that spot
Where nature  showed us what we got,

And our hearts and minds leapt in joy
For never have we found serenity such
And how we savoured the charm, coyed,
Through the woods as we did march.

A letter from Solan

How many times have I thought to write

A letter to you,

A really long one filled with all the flavours and smell

That came one after another to me

As I went touring from one place to another,

Time,

it seemed speeding  like trains

Hurrying , having its own rhythm;

I peered out of the windows of flowing time,

like a wonder struck one,

Trees went past,

So also hills and valleys,

And rivers too,

I found them all singing for me

And for you too;

At that little station of Solan

When we stopped for awhile,

Got down with what desire know not I,

But those sights,

They wrapped me with curious blessed feel,

At one point thought

I should leave all my bags and baggage there on the loco

And just stay back,

Right there,

But you,

Your face came like call of home.

The gulmohor beside my window*

The gulmohor beside my window

------------------------------------------------------

Most of the year she stands like a known 

Too familiar one,

A tree like others that surround our house,

Giving company to other trees,

Winter, autumn, summer, 

She stands by and large quiet

Barring those mild rustle

That breeze stirs up in her,

 

She stands as if looking at me

Through my window of bedroom,

Knowing exactly what novels do I read on my sleepless nights,

What movies I do watch of lonely evenings,

Which ways I adore my wife,

Knowing the colors of cushions and bedspread,

And also of curtains which sometimes stand between her and me,

Like veil, 

 

But come spring

She will break out into red lustrous hues,

She will deck herself up so gaudily

That I simply can't move away my stare from her,

I gaze and gaze like some one struck by beauty,

 

Come spring,

She turns into a fairy

And gives me wonderous sense of love. 

* published in The Indian Periodical, May 2018

A letter to belle amie

A letter to belle amie
------------------------------
Thought for months
To sit at my desk
And write a long letter
To your address,
Facing the window
The gulmohor tree
Redness when will spread
All over me,
Thought to write a letter
Long and wide
Catching my mind's lull
And its high tide,
Thought to arrange alphabets
One after another
Thought to write archaic
Dipping in ink my feather,
But then these days
Time slips away
Like water through fingers
Absolutely slippery,
Thought to write you
How the moon drenched me
From my neighbour's third floor
Coming home, with glee,
Thought to ask you
'How are you going
From your nights of hope
To depressive mornings?'
Thought to write to you
'What you have cooked?
This weekend, pasta?
Or just chicken corn soup?'
Thought to ask you
So many other things
Like what new fiction you read
Which album did you bring?
But time just slips away
As it always does
Through my fingers
So sieve like, porous.

The Muse Eternal

Had I not been so induced
Love, by your blessed words
You , wouldn't have been my muse
And I wouldn't have composed verse,
Where would then all my words go
For whom would I then write
Where would then my dreams I sow
How would I then feel the starry night?
Had you been not that one with rhyme
How could I have that epiphany found
And felt in every inch of heart the sublime
And by that in poems got more so bound?
Had You been not the One with providence
Where could I have found my poetic sense?

Exotic purple

You wore purple on you all through
Lavender of one kind that settled
You gave me the exotic view
Of lands where you proved your mettle,
You told me how day and night
You worked to fill your home with smiles
You told me how you put up a fight
And walked alone several miles,
Then you rose to see the day
Like a warrior princess true
Before you as meadows lay
With flowers blooming for you,
Then you took a stroll on the lea
Like an angel of a fantasy.

Few lines written on a sojourn to country

The sprawling fields green came open
To us once we moved through the forest
Cottages that stood in the day's flame
Looked like perfect places to rest,
The rhythmic beats of drum
Filtered through foliage thick
And as they to us did come
We thought what was that music,
And then the day gradually waned
As wane our minds and limbs
We thought of all that had been profaned
And basked in light as it seems,
Then we felt the silence of those ageless trees
And the breeze running through them with ease.

An acrostic poem

Marvellous will you call me
Over the land and the sea
I taking the spring's breeze
New like a day's lease
Arrive will I at your door?
Kite like as will I soar
Dashing down and then going up
Utterly beautiful will I stop
Traveling through clouds
Tied by string of no doubt
Arrive will I at your hands?

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 they are kept since the day of our birth.

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
Beauty in nature around
She would think of how love pours
Only to keep her bound

To love and her man who
Keeps coming back to her
Walking all the roads to
Her cottage,  on the hills, from far.

( the painting attached for illustrative purpose is part of free internet painting resources, artist : anonymous.) 

O

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.

Danseuse on beach

You take on the breeze and unfurl
All that you have for ages  in you
The sea with its waves when swirl
Foam and surf on beach so blue,
You get its rhythm and poise
You find its moves always near,
You get its sounds and noise,
Just  when they come to you clear,

At your feet as they come quiet,
Your winged mind just soar
And  you let them  take a  flight,
As they come to you , ashore,

Then you make a discovery
You take a breath and levitate
You create a form savoury
With music of soul so set,
You perform  magic on sands
You make free all that are caged
By  your wings you touch alien lands
And keep me at your gait amazed,

And I think of you as light as breeze
That flows with rhyme undulating
I think of you as a poem never ceased
That goes on taking ethereal rhythm.

One day of spring

If it is that splendid one
Of a day of spring
I would take the light of dawn
And take within
All that smell and fragrance
Of flowers drenched hap
I would get the perennial sense
Of earth's beauteous lap
And be truely jocund
By the sights and sounds
I would build my own land
Out of usual bounds,

There would I train my eyes
My ears and my heart
There would I with mirth lie
On the blessed earth,
And think and sing more
Of spring as she arrives
I would more poems pour
Taking a plunge, a dive,

And you might think what is it
That creates such a pleasure dome
I would just ask you to sit
And gather dreams there some
Which could make all merry
And fill all with love true
I would ask you not to hurry
But just to get that hue
Of the season's awesome presence
Its overwhelming cue
I would just lend that sense
Which beats that blue in you
And makes you admire
How life with spring gets gay
I would light that fire
Of love of a blissful  day.

Straight from kitchen

Of all those segments of our living

That we cling to morn till evening

Kitchen seems to be the only place sane

There you work and grind and I get to your plane

You put cardamom seeds and chilli flakes

I put cream and pineapple in milkshake

You make pastes of tamarind and ginger

I find how on your apron yellowish tinge lingers

And then when you shout seeing vegs useless

Rotten tomatoes you throw at me with rage,

I look at your cups held in two hands

They remind me of our honey filled lands

Where after our consummation we drank wine

You keep on grinding grains of rice fine,

Together we make our kitchen happy and wise

Together there we fall into silence and then rise

To meet our differences, our forlorn dreams

Kitchen noises and smells oft to our bedroom bring

Hunger and taste of plays that we gotten in our blood

Desserts what we  make dropping lemon juice in curd

Adding a bit of salt and sugar into it

Food what we make to live, to love and to eat.

All for You ,

I wait on sidewalk beside those trees
The day when tells stories to nocturnal breeze,
I wait as wait perhaps those krishnachura red
I wait  vivid , I wait for you , my maid,

And think of You as that angel quite
Who watches over me so stupified
By the charm of spring , by poesy wrought,
I think of You who heaven to earth brought,

And that moment I think I myself surpass
That moment I think I become a Lover just
Who wants not more than what You weave
Who just goes by what You help perceive,

I think of then wandering through the town
I think of You as that painted scape of sundown
Filled with red orange and so many other hue
I think of dreaming nothing but only You,

Maiden of spring

At around this time of the year
When the leaves come up
And scent of new born flowers
Fills  the earth's fertile lap
She oft thinks of her sojourns
To places which gave her the feel
Of walking down the lanes alone
And of getting the fading chill,
At around this time of the year
When the long shadows of trees
Get  inch by inch gradually shorter
She thinks of being taken by the breeze
That gives dreams of finding heavenly lair
And she traces by her mind the day's lease
How she has oft chosen to go and dare
Facing the seasons' changing tease,

At around this time of the year
She finds herself like a tree
She grows leaves on branches bare
And unfurls her wings to see
How the sky comes down upon her
And makes  her the queen of the lea,

At around this time of the year
Spring becomes her.

The Thread

The yarn that you left for me
To spin and weave a variety
Is a fabulous one filled with dreams
And as I work with it, as it seems
I find designs to emulate
Of that exotic curtain at the gate
Of the entrance of your room
I try to find something out of loom
And make it  beautiful and  enchanting
Much like that image of a setting
Of a story of our togetherness
You being lit up by meteors on your face
Telling upon me wonder and surprise
Your hair decorated by fireflies
And your lips supple and generous
Which mine forever long to touch;

All these are so part of that thread
Which you have for me just left
And how I keep on weaving out of it
Dreams, stories and poems as birthday treat,
For in you I am born every day ,
Every month in song and lay
And every year when end comes
I think of you and more of you I yearn,
The thread, that you left for me
Is the one which I spin to make variety
Of patterns, rhymes and reasons too
The thread yours brings me back to you

At the shut of eve

In the woods whence the eve closes in
Whence leaves stop murmuring
There the fairy drops down quiet
To get the feel of glow worms'  light
At her feet they deck the evening
There they make a marvellous setting,
The birds going to sleep at the shut of eve
From their nests they to dreams take leave
Perhaps being enchanted by the fairy's song
They in trees' branches wait for night long,
Till they find how in the woods they have got
All that they always in their hearts sought,

The other creatures also they think of sleep
Night slowly as descend and take a leap
To cover the woods with a serene calm
The fairy as to the glow worms comes,
There she looks down on those lighted things
There she does more of wonders bring,
By her simple and candid state  so blessed
There in the woods she lighted forms does trace.
( the painting as attached upon which the poem is loosely based, was done by Edward Robert Hughes, 1908)

Thinking of spring

As the winter slowly fades away
On glades as flowers bloom their way
I think of spring arriving quiet
Taking crimson the day's light,

Bees they gather in swarm in hives
They think of making more out of lives
They buzz and make on trees home
After winter as  spring does come,

Silkworms break from cocooned sleep
They draw patterns on green green leaves
Moths and butterflies take winged sense
From flowers they gather colorful pollens,

Cuckoos feeling the warmth in the air
Think of songs  they sang another year
Their hearts they with songs do fill
Spring as arrives after wintry chill,

The meadows by the hills get decked too
Wildflowers as there spring awesome view
Trees spread their branches to sky
With blossoms saying to winter goodbye,

And farmers from  fields freshly mown
Corns they carry happy as they own
Singing songs of fruitfulness
Spring as arrives quiet with her bless.

Cherry tree in snowy dress

Last night you talked of cherry tree
Which by your window stands
Draped in snow there you did see
A fairy from a different land,

And asked me how it was that
You thought of me then too
As if I went there and sat
On the bench just beside you,

And we together picked them
Those cherries from the tree
Late winter then came
Before us to make us see-
How cherries despite snow
Had the redness quite juicy,

We there sat and savoured
As the day passed quite
Cherries in us sweetness poured
As we took them  right
Into our mouths till they turned
More juicy and sweet,
We then together learnt
What could  be a treat
That us we could always give
As we would together sit
Somewhere in between
Our dreams and wakefulness
Somewhere in a wintry scene
Of a cherry tree in snowy dress.

Shoah *

Six million they say
Had not seen the day
For Hitler saw it right
To take them away
Like a cold feeted night,
Afterall they were Jews
Mere merchants and basterds
So he thought to slay
One million children, phew!
They had not seen the day
For the supremo thought
They were the beggarly lot
Ought to be butchered
Mere merchants and basterds.

( note: Shoah : Hitler's genocide is called Shoah in hebrew. It killed 6 million jews and over 1 million jewish children. Today is the Holocaust Remembrance Day.)

When you talk of mornings

It was only the other day
You just easily gave away
Your dreams of Michigan
And other stories of that land
To me, thinking them I might take
And with them might I make
Something filled with beauty,
Powder pink leaves when I would see
Falling quiet at your feet so taken
By the breeze of morning sudden,

Believe it or not, I did dream too
Getting that purple pink hue
And with you I also sat on the ground
Watching the sunrise from the mound
How that sent a shiver to me
As perhaps you hoped, filled with beauty,
Sugar maple trees, rosy blooms,
They came right there to my room,
They told me your presence, true,
Your savouring of hot tea, with me and you.

If I ever be the sea and thou the shore

If I ever be the sea and thou the shore
To thee would I come every moment more
Falling on thy lap with foam, surf luminous
To thee I would come every moment just
Bringing in oysters, pink pearl shells
Corals red and all that oceanic heart could tell
To thee how they came floating by from islands
Eastern isle and as far away as Mediterranean lands,
They would decorate thee with their pied beauty
As to thy shore I would come like a sea.

It must have been thy wonder

It must have been thy wonder
Which takes the sky to the light
It must have been thy splendour
Which shines on all so bright
Otherwise I would not have seen
How the nature so her decks
Out of sleep every morning
Thy beauty when I take,
And that fills my every pore
That fills me with glee
Otherwise not I went  ashore
From that  green blue sea
Where went I adrift once
So charmed by waves that roar
Where from I come to meet
Thy beauty that every morn pours,
And I stay amazed quite
Seeing the lands of earth
And I keep in me thy delight
Which  gives poetic birth.

A day of spring as it brings

A day of spring as it brings
Flowers and gentle blooms
In thee how oft I find that room
And once there I go I sing,

Songs of blessed morns
Tranquil afternoons , twilight too
For all of them how leave the cue
And I keep writing again born,

I keep thinking of thy heart
How that holds so attuned
All that create poetic birth,
Over valleys, plains and dunes,

A day of spring as it brings
Happiness wrought by poesy so
I just think of Proserpine
And how She came to sow-
grains upon earth from the world
beneath, only out of  Her Love
With Ceres bound , for lesser mortals,
And I keep dreaming of thy love,

As spread on earth and above,
From mountain stretched to sea
From heaven of blooms  to lea,
All turning to thy wonder of Love.

Lyre and poets

Lyre and poets , a duet
---------------------------------------
Take your lyre
And sing the way
O you poet as the day
Brings to you joys ethereal and blessed
Sing you , till you reach the gate
Of Aurora's temple,
Filled with the light of Love
That upon you tell
More of songs
Sing you all the day long.

Every string reminds me
that there is more and more to play
Life - an antique lyre
With many strings to play
Friends, time, light and love
all is tuned up for the song
A blessing felt and its gratitude
is there to flow as a new song
all day long or for a life long...

- Moinak Dutta & Gopakumar Radhakrishnan
23rd January, 2018

To the cloud and breeze of spring

Once I was sitting by the river,
the day had been beautiful as ever,
It was that time of dusk
Whence clouds come down to ask
If there was anything I did miss
And I told them I wanted her kiss
Who lives faraway from me
Across thirteen rivers seven sea,
They giggled like little girls
Those cloudlets with their hair curled,
They told me , ' Though we move around,
The earth oft through sky, we've never found
That maiden who had given you
The most blessed kiss mixed with dusky hue,
You better ask the breeze of spring
She knows better where from to bring
News of her, her whereabouts,
You should ask the breeze about
That maiden for whom do you long
Sitting by the river, so filled with song';

Saying these they went away
The clouds fairies, moved they
Along the margin of the bay
And soon the breeze came
Carrying my love's name,

I told her, ' Now that thou turn up
This dusk, so beautiful like Love
Can thou tell me where is she
That maiden in whom I found me?
Can thou be my messenger, my page
And bring me her news, as I wait for days
Where is she, what does she do
Does she think of me too
Like I do oft, being so in love?'

I told the breeze of spring as she turned up,
She  just came down near
Close to my ear
And told me in her beautiful soft voice
' Don't be sorrowful, be in joys
For I know where is she
What songs does she carry,
You wait here for a while
I just go over a thousand miles
And bring you back her song
You just wait for that long'

Saying this the breeze went away
As she came flying over the bay ,

And I waited like waits perhaps
The dusk in the day's lap
Like a beauty wrapped by love
In the ocean of sky up there above,
There I found how colors of the sun
Drew painted forms which painters oft learn
And put them in their canvas with all their mirth
I waited perhaps like a song of vivid earth
Before the river so calm and murmuring gentle
Decked by starry lights that upon her fell
And decked her with wonderous dreams
I waited there for all of my life as it seemed,

The dusk slowly gathered her sleep
Into nightly charms that oft take a leap
To more of wonders and fancies that make
Beauty of Earth for all of us to take.

Dream of spring

After winter when spring  does arrive
With smell of flowers and mustard fields
I think of  just another season of life
Of finding joys in moments till
I live to last with that mirth
Songs that are  ever present so
Upon this beautiful blessed earth,
As I go on just as I go;

I think of finding blooms yellow and greenish
I think of writing too of birds and bees,
I think of dreaming of the rising of Phoenix,
From the winter's frost and its beauteous lease,

I think of wandering away to the meadows quiet
And that rejuvenated state sung by spring with ease,
I just lie on the lea drenched by light
Only to get the feel of spring so unleashed.

Ode to Thou, who is carried by Swan

If Thou art that Goddess of myth
Who hath been carried by the Swan
Thou wilt I forever just keep
In my heart, like the birth of a dawn,

For in thee I find all my mirth
In thee , I get through words , my birth,
Every moment , every single day of a year
In thee I music find soft and clear,
They tell me to allude thee to my writes
They tell me to find in thee my delight,
And I go on writing to thy praise,
Months, years and unforgettable days,

Thou hath given me wonders to grasp
Thou hath given me to fill time's lapse,
Lotus in hand whence thou I see
I find the most beautiful me,
For verses then come spontaneous
Finding thee oft brings me to tears,
Happy and the most blessed kind,
How for thee I write lines after lines,

And that just keeps on going forever
As I row through life's sacred river.

An afternoon saga

'  how do they feel whence thy hands thou lay?'
She asked me one afternoon , seizing the day
As it was slowly gliding down her nape, her breasts,
There the slanted light was taking a sleepy rest,
As rest on the meadows green flowers taking sun beams,
Taking dew too as they make a descend slow
Her hair found I how on her shoulders did flow
Cascading , rippling thing, brown and tantalising,
Somewhere there  had been an absorbing  scene
Of a green valley decked by seasonal flowers wild
Somewhere there the heavenly painter drew like a child
With curious strokes of brush , meadows quite lush
And I seeing all that was just about to gush
Forth all that was coming to my throat,
Songs of communion, songs of boat,
And other things, like a portion of the Holy Book
Bible was all in my hands I took,

And she poured wine red red in the glass
Seizing the day , I thought time's chariot shouldn't pass
Such an afternoon of winter, young and green
Such wonderous painted calming a scene.

Whence thou to my ears whispered

Whence thou to my ears whispered
Thy love which thou hath carried from far
Flying over countries, rivers glistening in light
How thou hath given me thy beauty bright
And I listening to that music sweet
Like a sky of night spread wide starlit
Cover thee with my Love magnanimous
And to thee I just with happiness ask
' Is that what thou dreamt for all thy days
Is that how thee spread thy songs and lays?'
Thou just lean thy head on me quiet
Thy hair catches the meteors' light
And they deck thee with their spent up glow
Blue and white how they in turn sow
More of beauty , as carried by thee
For centuries in the sky's sea.

Going to thee

Whence the dew is busy dropping sleep
I go to thee where my dreams I keep
And like the day which wakes up sweet
Tracing the blessed night's happy feet
I find myself joyous to the core
Eos like whence thy Love thee pour,
All over me from the painted sky
Bracing thy softness how go on I
Eulogising thee more with all my heart
Where words arrive with flowery birth,
And I just get filled with thy wonder true
As the morn brings that golden hue,

Whence the dew is busy dropping sleep
I go to thee where my dreams I keep.

If there are those angels there

If there are those angels there
Who weave dreams in heavenly lair
I would just tell them about thee
So that could they help me write a story
Of finding thou in a garden flowery
Set sprawling and wide on a valley
In a dress white flowing in the breeze
Holding the reins of the day's lease,

If there are angels there
Who know how to create music fair
I would just them tell to sing for thee
So that in lyrical rise thou meet me,
In words arranged one by one in a string
As pearls oft give to necklaces meanings
And them would I then keep at thy feet
As offerings of music of my heart beats.

That light on thy face

That light on thy face
Filtered through curtains
Drew  heavenly hues
Love as gathered like
Nascent wintry dews,

I looked at thee, thy eyes
They held waters of the sky
Happy and blessed
As thou me caressed,

I looked at thy hands
They wore marks of lands
Where thou hath gone to plant
Saplings of hope on desert sands,

Thou hath that Godly frame
Which carried once that dame
Who had travelled many miles
Who had seen both pains and smiles,

Thou hath the splendour bright
Like Theia carrying the light
Over the seas, the oceans vast
Thou with Love me touched,

And I looked at thee,
Thy face filled with glee,
And  thy eyes fell on me,
So filled with joy, watery,

And I thought what was it
That made me to sit
By thy side one day so,
Painted by thy awesome glow,

Then I looked at thy face
So lighted like a bless,
And I wrote in my mind lines
Finding thy beauty, thy sublime,

It had been a moment's sojourn
From dawn to dusk and then to morn,
I travelled both time and space,
So decked by thy immortal dress,

I became a speck of gold
I became a story not told,
I became a faery man
Going with thou to wonderland,

There I saw how flowers shine
How waterfalls carry the divine,
How valleys give  continuous birth
Of happiness not found on earth,

That light on thy face
Filtered through curtains
Made me so filled with words,
Becalmed as Love in me surged.

The other day I dreamt of thee

The other day  I dreamt of thee
Like a rose on the lea
Bloomed quiet soft and bright
Like the way oft arrives the light
On the earth from above;

The other day I dreamt of Love,
As oft the lotus bloom
Pink and white on a beautiful day,
In hands of Gods like songs that lay
In the ethereal space,

The other day I bloomed by thy grace
Like an edelweiss unfurls
Snow and white its beautiful petals
Wrought by dream of thee
Blue and green like a sea,

The other day I dreamt of thee.

Oft whence I turn to dreams of thee

Oft whence I turn to dreams of thee
I find myself up there in the sky
Where stars sing songs for eternitie,
And I too sing a song of Love
Like perhaps sings with peace a dove,

Eve whence come down on me
Glitzy and feminine thou do I see,
As if thou hath dressed up quite
With all the glittery things of the night,
How they cover thy holy frame
How they write there with thee my name,
As write the angels on the eternal spread
As write all lovers of their songs unsaid,

Oft whence I turn to dreams of thee
I get swept by breeze on the lea
And she like a winged creature me takes
Over the hills, valleys, plains and lakes,
I hover so taken by thy Love , in thy fold,
I find spring in winter blooming never old,
I find thy beauty taking over all of me
I sing songs simply out of glee,
And those songs go on without stop
For thee like a leaf on thy lap I drop.

Dionysus, thiasus and a sacrophagus *

Behold  and watch the procession
Of men, women, drunken lot
How they had come out
Whence to dreams thine
They are brought,

Thou holding thyrsus
Led the way towards a fest,
And Maeneds chanting verse
With Silenus found the jest,
Had they been all out of town
Then what that thiasus for
Had they gathered for the crown
Thence why there's no splendour?

Or was it thy supreme state
In which thou held the earth
Was it thy heavenly bless
That thou gave all thy mirth?

They say thou art the guardian of the gate
They say thou hold pride of lions as fate,
They say if thou arrive, men turn faint
They say by thy declare, vines are sent
To mortal kinds who have nothing else to cheer
They say thou art that whom Gods even fear,

I just look at sacrophagus so kept for sages,
I just find in that carved Beauty pious for ages.

(* note : this is written on a marble scarophagus , picture of which is attached, with carved figures of Dionysus and Maeneds)

Mirage*

How have I searched for him
At Paris, in Monalisa, in waves of Rhine,
In Picasso's paints bluish fine,
In Beethoven's symphony nine,
How my mind searched for him - my love;
Sometimes have I
Found him ( out of sky)
On the snow,
Like a traveller on the go,
On road white,
Sometimes him
I do  sight,

In my colored wintry pullover warm
How have I found him
In moments some,
But that love changes
Like a mirage
If I call him,
How he disappears
Leaving me in desert,
All paintings, songs and
Memories get merged then
In sun burnt sands.

( * note : it is a translation / transliteration of a bengali poem titled ' Marichika' / 'মরীচিকা ' by Jagari Mukherjee as done by me.)

So by poesy wrought

Whence thou come out of wood
Like a fairy hand in hand
How that makes Life for all good
As etched on the time's sand,
I think of going to hills
Where many times I thee sought
I think I got that feel
That thy Love kept me wrought,
I hear the roosters sing
Early morn with blessedness
I think they every morn brings
Thy everlasting kindness,
I look out and stay amazed
By the mist , dews and chill
I get into winter's haze
And thy poesy more I feel,
I write copious on page
With rhymes my soul I fill,
And that goes on for days
For months for years too
How for thee I just pray
Wrapped by thy lovely hue.

Bow down archangels*

'Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode: 
Before you were, or any hearts to beat, 
Weary and kind one lingered by His seat; 
He made the world to be a grassy road 
Before her wandering feet'*

And that world must have been filled with mirth
Just the same oft I find on earth
For thou art there to give away
With ease like the breeze holds sway
On our souls filled with poetry and paints
On our minds as they leave wonderous sense,

And I think more oft thee,
Had thou been there for eternity
Otherwise how is it I find the music same
Which once made a poet to write thy name
On every page, every book , every lane
That he took out of his sweetest pain,

If thou hath kept me in thy bosom wrapped
If for thou the waves come with joy so lapped
Is it not that happiness all should find
That fills mortal soul with the immortal kind.

(*note: the title and the quoted lines are of W. B.Yeats)

Zenobia's last look upon Palmyra*

There She stood after the defeat
Having a last look at Palmyra,
The day had  come to wear
Hues swarthy and cries of Hurrah
From men who did not even know her,

She looked bound and so chained
Captive after so many years of her reign,
Not faraway from where she stood
There out of the thickest wood
Came flying to her the wise owl
She knew by then all of hers were sold,
Ripped apart by men who knew not
To what plunder they Palmyra brought,

Her eyes dark beyond the usual wont
Looked at the owl and dethroned
Zenobia by Aurelian so knew
The night had come for her to view
Her favoured place, her vast land
Where She once did her dreams plant,

Not faraway from where She stood
The owl sat there on a pedestal and did  brood
Upon the fate of her favourite Syria
How She cast her last look upon Palmyra,

She knew it would be her last look
For the next day would they her own,
Like they without any remorse possessed
All that were hers, her people, her son,

She knew it was perhaps for one time last
She was watching the land vast
Those lanes, alleys where people thronged
Where they sang beautiful evening songs,

And there She stood , Zenobia quiet
Her eyes beyond the usual wont
Having that swarthy hue
So by Aurelian dethroned.

(* note: upon a painting by Herbert Gustave Schmalz, )

If I a sailor be

If I a sailor be I would go to Sicily
And explore there newer shores
There heard I thou hath left thy steps
On pasture green thy last address,
I would there go and at that shore
Would leave my boat, only to find more
How thou hath by kindness thine
Left treasure, lighted domes and golden mine,
There would I perhaps thee find
Like my deity of passion that binds
Me to thee, for ages before am I born
Before the days turned nights, and nights to morn,
I would go to find more of thy presence
Which always lay before me wonderous sense,
Like the way exotic trees and plants
Bear aroma of unexplored lands,
I would go to discover more of thy beauty
Which would in turn give rise in me
Flowering of heart filled with words
The most blessed ones, moving me towards
More of never ending praise,
For thee, right there would I pass my days.

That beauty of a world I dream oft

'When my arms wrap you round I press 
My heart upon the loveliness 
That has long faded from the world; 
The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled 
In shadowy pools, when armies fled; '*

That beauty of a world I dream oft
Where nothing but from skies dew drop
Like blessings of the wintry sun
Thence to thee I with love turn,
And feel that cold sweeping breeze
Telling me to take a day's lease
And make it wonderous as it may
Give rise to more beauty of a day,
I take thy hands and behold
How from above fall the molten gold
On leaves of trees, petals of flowers soft
That beauty of a world I dream oft,
Where peace laden my tranquil heart resides,
With thee I go to the hills and river's side
There I find how resting my eyes upon thee
Gods have long ago made that treaty
To make man and woman to understand
We are all but little grains of time's sand,
And that sense whence come to me overwhelming
I sing for thee from morning till evening,
The armies I know would oneday flee,
Leaving their arsenal and weaponry,
For Love would bind them also true
Like it binds us, me and you.

(* note: the quoted lines are of W.B. Yeats)

Tell them about the dream ! *

' Tell them about the dream, Martin!'
Mahalia Jackson once for thou cried
And thou standing there with thy dream
Said how good it is always to be free
To fly like a bird out of oppression
How thou stood up to end slavery,

Taking that bus from Montgomery
Thou took to road following the light
And how people sang for thee, merry,
For thou hath shone out of dark, bright,

As bright perhaps shines the coal
Having the fuel in it all days of summer
Having diamond also in its soul
How thou hath broken chains at Alabama

And gone beyond guns and carnage
And beyond Vietnam too,
Finding calm in meaningless rage
You!  having a dream of gold and blue.

(*Written  as a tribute to Martin Luther king Jr. on his birth anniversary )

It must have been an Ordinary Day *

It must have been an Ordinary Day
And you might just say
It is always good to get
The smell of coffee waking up late
We got no need to argue
We can always bury the hatchet
And sing songs true
To the faithful departed,

It must have been an ordinary day
And you might just say
It is always good  to get the hair cut
Making it pixie kind, buzzed, smart,
We got no need to please us
We can always sing a song
And make it quite melodious
Just to make  our days wait for you long.

( * written by me as a tribute to Dolores O' Riordan of Cranberries. ' Ordinary Day' is her first single.)

I dreamt that I stood in a valley

I dreamt that I stood in a valley one night
The sky fell on my shoulders with her light
The stars and other celestial things
They glittered quiet , in my heart they did sing
Of life and its wonder as spread far and wide
I stood there complete, taken over by the sight
As if again am I made to feel and hear
How all things have place right there
In thy bosom, thy overwhelming beauty,
How under the canopy of sky  I saw thee,

From far how came the songs of silence
Carried by ether, through the woods dense,
As if that song had been there all night and day
For us to hear it and be glad by that lay,

I stood in the valley and I dreamt of thee
One morning filled with that same calm and glee
The sky then was filled with songs too
Mellifluous, touching me by its blue,
I spread my arms like a winged one
I dreamt of thee again that beautiful morn
And songs came to my mouth , my lips
They touched right there where thy beauty I keep,
And made me to just stand there quite amazed
I dreamt of thee in the morning's blaze,

I stood in the valley and dreamt of thee
And I  dreamt that thou stood before me.

Making love to thee

Making love to thee
Oft takes me out to galaxy,

There I find how we float
Songs of communion
Coming out of our throat,

Thou singing like a Venus
Rising out of the sea of sky
Glittering things on shoulders thy,

And I like that warrior Mars
Filled with battle marks, scars,
All over me settled like old scores,

And thou putting balm on them
By Love thine, herbs and oceanic elements, filling their bloody pores,

Thou make me to sleep hap
Getting nector from thy lap
And we two just keep making love,

Up in the sky, over and above
There we float on the bed
Of space and time forever laid.

If I had to make a world for thee

If I had to make a world for thee
Filled with thy heavenly beauty
I would have made it green with youth
And woven around it songs to soothe
All hearts which lost their ways in strife
I would have made for them  another life;

Cornfields would I have spread vast
Touching the horizon till the day would last
And would have made flower beds
By words felt in my soul oft unsaid,
And there would make them bloom blessed
Like light and spring with generation rest.

Ode to that man who hath found the Infinite

Whence I do go for a search
To find how Love makes a surge
In heart, in mind, in every vein
Of my tiny life lost both in mirth and pain,
How thee I find the towering height
Drenched by Love , the Holy Light,
And in thee I find how everything turn
With Omnipotence of The Lord, like the Sun,
Filled  with energy and blessed might
How thou hath shown the world inner delight
Which could only be grasped true and wise
Before even the Galaxies born and died,

Thou hath shown how Love only binds
Souls and hearts of all mankind,
Thou hath risen like a meteor, a star,
A glittering hope shining from far,
As if thou hath known what it is meant to sight
The Perennial, The Eternal, The Infinite .

Poetry, musing and the deity

I remember the day thou wrote to me
Like a breeze fresh from the salty sea
Carrying the warmth of thy heart so blessed
As if thou sang from thy wonderous nest,
Telling me how thee had seen poetry fly
From  eyes of lovers under the starlit sky
They held hands and gazed  each to each
They gathered rhymes by love unleashed,
And asked me if I had ever felt the same
The glory to God and to thy name,

I said I have felt it oft and true
I said I have been there quiet and  blue
In my heart have I felt it strong
Like poems written for thee short and long,
I said I have been the one , kind and soft
I said I have been a soul held by thee aloft,
And a feather too given to the wind
Happy and floating as it seemed,
All because of thy calming eyes
I said I have felt in me a sky
Spread out even and fair ,
I said I have held a lyre
And sang every morn and night
I said I have met thee like a taper bright-
Kept with all the heart's pure and joy
I said I flickered in the eve, slight and coy,
Seeing thy face, thy deified glance
I said I have lived with thee five centuries once.

U n i versal

You talk of cherry orchard
Jazz and your God Father,
And how just being merry
You colored your auburn hair
Turning it more of a flame
Which never ever dies,
You talk of your marriage
With a beautiful autumn sky,

Your wardrobe is filled with
Garments never worn
You carry red  shoes
Like berries to your home,
And your window has
A view of a maple tree
From there you claim
You can see me easily,

And I here sit under
A cloudless sky so blue
From here I get the scent
Of thistle and you,

You talk of New Orleans
How there sun rises too
You talk of silvery eyes
with which moon loves you,
And perhaps of that tavern
Where comes the friday night
Filled with renaissance songs
Mary from wall watching you quiet,

I think of temple gongs
How sombre they feel
I think of going with you
To an unknown pleasant  hill,

There we would oneday sure
Forgetting all boundaries
Make a garden filled
With oranges  and blue berries.

Whence I think of thee

Whence I think of thee
How I get  filled with imagery
Of finding a green mossy land
Getting blessed by morning glory,

How thy love  gather forth
On leaves and petals too
How on beach  waves float
Catching just luminosity,

Thou hath made the morn to rise
Every day after the night's lease,
How by thee word just flies
From my pen to paper with ease,

And I think of thee more as
The day gathers its dust
Only  because of thee how
Little specks of time I pass,

I become historical,
I weave magic too
How by thee I find myths
For all to have a view,

I go to Eastern isles
I become totally Greek
For thou how I walk miles
How for thee words I seek,

If thou hath that wonder in thee
Which makes the birds to sing
How I from sky to sea
For thou only poetry bring.

One afternoon at the balcony

'When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?'*

That she thought one afternoon so
Sitting at her balcony catching the softest glow
Of the sun of winter, languid and slow,

'Where has he gone, without telling me
Where has he gone, to which land or sea?'
She thought trying to picture his face,
Half charmed  by frost, half by light so blessed,
She wished she could go with him too
To the lands unknown, to get a view,
Of all things that he finds joy in
A scattered cloud, a simmering evening,
She wished she could call him by the breeze,
That blew from north , chilly to freeze
Her senses, her love, even her dreams,
She thought it would be her only way
To find him by her side on such a lovely day,
Just then on her purple and green
Floral dress she saw a butterfly sitting,
She was amazed and more by love wrought
' what really you to me so brought?'
She asked the butterfly, as she sat upon her
Taking a moment's rest after flying in from far,
' I was sent to you by the breeze from north
She who has always lived with starry frost,
She told me that you are thinking of him
That boy who had been busy painting a scene
Of wonder and magic and beauty all put together,
The breeze just told me to go near
To you and tell you that if the day is so bright
Why are you so mournful, when you can be alright?'

Hearing this from the butterfly's mouth
She from north just turned to south
And found how the warm breeze from sea
Came to tell her how it could really be
To think of her love as warm and true
To think of him as her never lost beau.

(* note: the quoted lines are of P.B. Shelley)

The maiden with Lotus

Out of water She came
With Lotus in her hand, the dame,
I looked at the blooming flower
And thought was it not a wonder
That She came with the Lotus thus
In her hand, its white and pink hue,
Its soft petals drenched by water and dew,
I Her asked, ' Now that I am here thinking thee
How come thou arrive so, with the Lotus,
Is it for me?'

And She said nothing in reply,
But before my eyes,
She make the Lotus bloom further,
Its white and pink splendour
How spread from her hand to her feet,
And that sight how made me to sit
Quiet and motionless,
Perhaps I became without speech too,
Seeing thus the heavenly view,

' Who art thou?
What thee want?
From which unknown land
Thou hath come?'

I asked Her,
As if in disbelief,
' art thou real? Or a myth?'

The Lotus pink and white
Was left by Her , just by my side,

' if you can sit for hours
Gazing at water,
If on water you can reflect,
Then you will know
What is my secret'

She spake that only
With a smile on her lips,
She said nothing more
For me other that those words  to keep,
And then She went away,
Like the way She came,
Going back to water
The divine dame,

I thought it must have been
A fantastic dream,

But the Lotus ?
So pink and white?
Was not that real?
A beautiful sight?

I thought it reminded me so many things,
How Lord Buddha carried it in His immortal wings,
How The Devi Incarnate carried that too,
How about that once Confucius spoke,

The Lotus ,
I just gently stroked,
Touching its petals
Its winged shape,
With its  blooming splendour
How I wished to get draped.

One dusk of spring

It must have been a dusk of spring
And I have found thee waiting
For me to return home, after a long day
It must have been the month of May
Whence just outside our home
The jasmine and rajnigandha some
Do come flowering like beauties of night
And I find thee waiting by the ember, bright,
Thy robes loosely swept by the evening's breeze
Thy hair upon thy shoulders lay with ease,

Seeing me thou come smiling and ask
' now that the day has gone and dusk
Has settled quiet on thy arms and face
Should you lay and take rest?'

I look at thy face where beads
Of water drew poetic leads,
Thy robe's end thou take in thy hands
By that thou wipe all dust and sand
From me, my tired soul and body,
Then thou look at my eyes, glistening though weary,
' Do you want to me to sing a song?
Do you want me to sing night long?'

I perhaps nod like a someone charmed
And thou by thy softness put balm
On my soul and mind which longed
To rest by thy side all life long.

Wonderful life is

There lies the morning
Spreading its bless
Saying it's a beauty
To wake up and trace
How thy love is above all
Filled with omnipotence,

And how am I left
By thee so enchanted,
Wonderful life is
Whence I get out of bed
And find flowers there
With thy Love so bred.

Universal

Oft do I think of Love
That goes beyond the wall
You plant in summer a cherry tree
I a mahogany  this fall
Then you spread a garden of hope
I decorate another too
You fly a kite above
And I just get from here its view,

Thus we mingle despite walls
We spread brotherhood
You find  a mango blossom
I build  an oak wood .

Tree and Swan ( a duet poem)

Thy silence
Splinters my soul
Like shards of frosty stars...
I long for thy sunlight
To drench me
With thy love's rain.
I plead with thee
For a single sunbeam
To give me back
My strength again.
Tell me, o tell me o love
That I did not plead with thee in vain;

Who am I to make thee strong
Whence do I for thee long
But that day I feel is a blessed one
Whence in thou have I found a Swan
The swan who could keep me awake
The Swan who could me to wonders take
So I would love to worship thee
As I worship Calliope.

Singing thy praise

How days after days do I keep
Singing thy songs profound and deep
Which is so beautifully spread around
in morning's sky, Helios orb golden round,

And how do I go on finding sparkling little things
On leaves like smiles of children forever as it seems,
As if they hold happiness given to thee
How thy presence everywhere do I see,

And more how do I fall in love thine
Like Theia whence thou doth  shine
Giving me another day to live and sing
To find how thee more words in me bring,

How thee  stay forever young and true
How in thy winged poesy I find the cue
Of living only for thee, finding thy divinity,
And that feeling how ushers in a calm
how every day  thou with Eos come.

Aphrodite by William-Adolphe Bouguereau

Now that the day have I sung almost
Singing and sailing to reach thy coast
How by  thy grace doth do I see
The image of thy calming divinity,

Art thou then Aphrodite for me
As preserved in art for eternity
Thy face, resplendent bright
Thy hair tied in bun, alright,
As William-Adolphe Bouguereau
A french man did thou see
And made thou his Aphrodite?

Know I not how times get passed
I lay awake thinking thee just
As if all the ages I have been thinking of thee
O You the restive benign face of Aphrodite,

In thee I find how oceans rise
In thee I find how they bear low tide
In thee I discover newer hopes and dreams
Thou art never ending as it seems,

Thy image is what perhaps I always bore
In my heart as to thee I swam ashore,
Crossing perhaps time and space
Through poems and writings how thee I trace,

Thou hath given me the birth of mirth
Thou hath shown me how Love do surge
In my mind, my words, my rhythmic line
How in thou I find Love  true and divine,

And that love how gives more to write
Aphrodite if thou bring such awesome sight

What joy, what love, what immortal bless
Prompted  Bouguereau to paint thy kindness?

I just keep on looking at thee,
And get filled with only poetry.

Ode to Mary Magdalene

Whence thou hath loved Him so
Whence in His eyes thou kindness bestowed
Thou could be that form feminine
Who hath reached the Pure and Divine,

For thou if I can never sing
Thence I have not ever known true
How Love can to every mortal bring
The beauty of soul, mind and heart too,

Whence thou hath called thyself like
Mary who through penitence did sight
The proper and most blessed love
How by writing to thee I make a poetic flight,

And I find thou as the one first
Who hath seen the resurrection just
Out of the night rising like a sun
How for thee my words in rhyme run,

O thou the Mary of the three
Thou who rose from the sea of Galilee
Thou hath a heart of Love supreme
For thou brought tears in eyes of Him.

Loving thee is like making a world

Loving thee is like making a world in me
Where I hear birds come singing thy glory,
Drenched by the mirth  of the day's  hue,
How in thee I the whole World view,

Where I find mountain streams flow
Sparkling and dancing drenched by thy glow,
Loving thee is like only  to find more
How beauty of Nature with love only pours,
Where days go and nights come with ease
Where like Selene thou bring poetry without cease
Where golden flakes and silvery charm
Both do come and  both enbalm,
Where the world within grows blessed quite
Where thou shine forever with eternal delight.

If thou be the vine and I a tree

If thou be the vine and I a tree
If for thou I find the beauty of me
Through all seasons, months and days
If in thy love me strong so forever stays,

I wish I remain standing so for thee
If thou be the vine and I a tree
I wilt make my boughs go far and wide
Spreading winged dreams for thy delight
And leaves of me will flutter in breeze
For thou O Vine without cease,

If thou be the vine so and I a tree
I wilt for thee find beauty of me.

Bee and flowery tree

In the depth of winter cold
How by loving thee I hold
The scent of a wonderous summer
Which keeps me always warmer
Than others who had not thou seen,
O thou the beauty of a Queen
With a  halo around thy head
Thy crimson flowery bed
Thy everlasting Love which springs
Flowers, fruits and other seasonal things,

How by thy mere presence I haply sail
From night to morn to evening kind,
How by loving thee more I tell
How thy love more me to thee bind,

And like a bee how I remain busy
Humming thy flowery state,
How I gather pollens in my wings
And go making honey straight,
In forms worded, filled with rhyme,
How I keep coming back to thy sublime,

And that in turn creates more in me
Unforgettable blooming of a flowery tree.

Loving thee, by Joyce!

Oft do I think of me
As that boy of 'Araby'
Carrying thy image
In my heart , for ages
Not even known to me,

I bear thy face and name
As 'chalice' kept close
And perhaps I travel the same
As that Stephen Dedalus,

Only that there is no
Labyrinth to uncover,
Loving thee , belle amie
How miles I just by walks cover,

Through dins and bustles of
The city and its traffic snarls
How do I think of thee oft
As the birth of poetic pearls
Kept hidden under the wraps
Of the shell of my heart
Never to be without love
Easily and perfectly grasped,

And I go on doing things
Which only can a Lover do
Carrying thy image, a 'chalice',
Forever in my heart, like a beau.

Love and Kairos

Being so blessed by love of thee
How I find myself kneeling true
As if I face thee and eternity
Both giving me continuous cue
To write more about that fire
Which thou hath in me so ignited
O how by thy love, I just dare
To say thee words left for long unsaid,

And I pray to thee and Kairos
To keep me in thy heart so blessed
For in thy love I find the source
Of blooming roses white and red.

Basket of flowers

As in  thou I find all
That I dreamt and wrote
How thy arrival fills me
With verses in my throat,
And I think of thee
As that woman true
Who can say easily
You are my beau,

Thy basket of fruits and flowers
Brings all the beauty of spring
Thy arrival how gives me more
Life's beautiful meaning,

And being so in love of thee
How I go on floating
How by thy grace O belle
I just go on singing.

Love and Poet ( a duet poem)

I always tell thee
if something were to happen to me
I want thee to know
that I died loving thee

if thou art my passion true
If in thy hurts I bled
Thou can never die so
Thence I've  never been a poet

All for belle amie

Now that by thee I know
What Life really shows
And what Death signifies
How I just return to thee
Where Love forever resides,

And I dream of thee true
I sing for thee with all my heart
For thee so belle amie
How I live with all thy hurts,

Is it not a wonder that
All my waking hours I
Think of thee belle amie
Through my soul and mortal eyes,

How I pine for thee,
How I remain quiet
How thy calm brings me
To thy immortal light,

(If given a chance I can
Forever for thou I sing
Whence thou so enbalm
Why can't more poems I bring.)

If thou be Eos

It must have been a day of spring
Whence thou have I met thee
Other wise thought I how does it bring
Only bouquets of thistles and peonies ?

Never thought or believed it
That there is life again after death
Heard some people just do it
In the name of Leap of Faith,

And the moment thou hath shone
Bright like a beauty of a swan,
How I found in thee known
Stories of unknown land,

Where Love remains the same as here
Where people sing and dance too
How through thee have I found
The sky and sea how remain true,

How thou hath given me
That voice to only cheer
Which is God's wish too
Quite silent and clear,

And that moment whence thou
Amazingly doth declare
' I am She whom you want
What do you really fear'

How I find in thee
That primordial force
Which had given birth
To Life, as if thou art
Dynami Zois,

And that feeling how ensures
More for thee me writes
If thou be that Eos
I must be blessed quite.

Chloris

"As she talks, her lips breathe spring roses: I was Chloris, who am now called Flora." *

My Love to thee is so overwhelming
That I do find a birth of spring everlasting
In me, is it not the most happy state?
Is it not that which  is searched by all poets?

And see how simply by putting my flowers
At thy feet, I do become a tree blooming true
As if I have turned myself into a bower
O Thou art like Flora, of whom  sang for ages
Those who sought thee like lovers turned sages,

How in thou have I found oft
Roses of heart waving held aloft
Getting the warmth of joy and light
How thou hath given me fanciful flight
To the world of poetry most beautiful kind
To that peaceful calm that on all do shine,
Turning all into blossoms of wonder;

How thou hath made Adonis, Attis and others
To forget their own and to become just flowers,

In thy Elysian fields where eternity stays
For decades, years,months, weeks and days,
How do myself I find and newly discover
O Thou Chloris, The Heavenly Flower.

(* note: the quoted lines are of Ovid)

The angel in blue blue dress

Whence by thy grace do I hear thy steps
Coming to me as if slowly making waves
How do I see how even in winter
Seasons of fruitfulness arrive ripe ,

As if thou hath come from thy bower
Bearing crabapples red and flowers
Names of which never I tried to remember
Pansies, peonies, lilies and more
O how thy beauty bring all at my door,

And I look at thee, like an angel perhaps
In blue blue dress so wonderous
Thy hair falling over thy shoulder
Cascading like a beautiful river,

At that moment I just think
Art thou that form of Love
Which brings to poor me
Happiness from above?
Art thou that form angelic
That giveth rise to poetic magic?

And I just keep on writing true
Thy splendour, erupting in me with pied hue.

The bird by my window one morn

It had been a morning of a day
And I was there sitting by the sil
The light was weaving outside a dream
And the winter touched me with her mild chill,

Then saw a bird unknown and white
She came there and sat quiet
Just by my window where I
Was admiring morn's light,

' You must have come from faraway land
For in your eyes I can see whiteness frosty'
I told her seeing her looking at me,
And she said she had come flying seven seas,
Where she had seen God's awesome beauty,

And like a child curious forever
I asked her if she had seen any river
And she told me ' Yes , dear yes!
I have seen Huron how dressed
In the evening and also in the morn
I have seen how there days are born'

I just looked at her eyes so filled with dreams
I just looked how she painted a wonderous scene
Right in front of me, how had I beauty seen,

' Tell me more, O You the messenger of dawn
Whence You arrive with beauty, thus borne
Carrying it with such ease and bless
Tell me more how there trees get dressed'

I just like a child asked her to tell
Stories of her flight and her alien tales,
And she spake how the sugar maple tree
Breaks out in colors of rosy pink with glee,
She told me how other trees too
Take  orange , red, cinnamon hue;

' And Huron, how does she flow?
What wealth does she carry?
What splendid glow?'

I asked her again, never forgetting the river
Of whom she talked , giving me shiver,
A thrill, a joyous yield,
How I thought how she really did feel
Whence she flew over the river there
What colors draped her, what turned her fair,

And she said , ' O if you have seen her dear
You would just forget her never,
She wears a calm and green dress
And by her bank thick woods she does brace'

I just looked at her beautiful eyes
And felt how she came out of the sky
Just to sit right there for awhile
Telling me how she flew over a thousand miles.

A day out

Oft do I in my mind's eyes thou do I see
With thy murmurs filling the valley
It had been that stage of Indian winter
Whence people go out of their homes to find shelter
In the forests, hills and other places away
As if to find how journeys could hold sway
In mind , body and soul, the very depth of being,
How away from usual din had I felt the talkings of wind
Running through trees as they stood watching
Our wonderful meeting one beautiful noon,

Seeing thou like a lass meandering
How had I broken into songs, singing
Perhaps thy blessed state, tranquil heart,
How by thou had I found how words give birth
Of a taper suddenly lit up as if joys and mirth
Had always stayed there hidden, covered
By dust for ages and thence,
As if by providence of Love
I felt all that I had searched for and sought
They were mere ignoble thoughts
Having no meaning, in thy perennial flow
How thou brought before me that Godly show
Which rarely we try to hold in our mind;

How thy beauty , thy immortal frame, thy murmurs
To an indescribable ecstasy me doth bind,
And I sat there by thou, lost in dreams,
Weaving a picture in me, mirroring thou and the panoramic scene,

How long had I there stayed counted not I
Only there I knew Thou, those trees and the sky,
Was that a trance or a poetic calm,
Was  that a flow or a heart enbalmed,
I never tried that to find;

But on  that lovely day of Indian winter
How in thee did I find a shelter,
How that day brought me all that I pined
Peace of poetry which to thou more did me bind.