Monday, February 26, 2018

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.

Saturday, February 24, 2018

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.

Monday, February 19, 2018

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.


Sunday, February 18, 2018

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.



Saturday, February 17, 2018

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.



Friday, February 16, 2018

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.

Thursday, February 15, 2018

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

The State Funeral

At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut,  She could not have spoken for  The rare award,  The police have done the th...