explosion is long overdue...

Light fire there dear!
Right there at my soul,
Now that numbness spreads...
Now that the air is biting cold;

Kiss me hard dear,
Kiss me to detonate me!
Help me to burst into flames, dear,
Help me to vaporise the sea!

Strike that blowtorch dear
Strike it right where the ice forms,
Singe me with your amplitude,dear,
Raise the ash-and-fire-storms;

You know, don't you dear?
That in a secret chamber packed,
Gallons of fuel lie there useless,
With sacks of gunpowder stacked...

Just need your fire dear!
Just need your fiery code
And be rest assured dear,
I would surely,with noise,explode...

Now that the numbness spreads
Across that rocky mountain view,
Just be there beside me,dear,
And the explosion, is long overdue...

utopia...

'If you blow that pipe, son...'
My father told me one morn;
'Blow it always with your soul
Only then it reaches its goal...'
Saying this my dad smiled,
And the breeze of spring blew mild,
I nodded looking at him,
As if I was in half-dream;
Days passed as hours went
With many an instrument time spent,
At last one evening I found a song
After wasting my search for too long,
Walking across the sands white,
Under a starry, moonlit night,
Flowing almost like a leaf astray
Right there at the ocean's bay...
I took my pipe up my mouth,
And looked at the direction South,
From where the leaf was borne,
From some branch surely torn,
And blew the first gush of air,
Through its cylinder, loud and clear,
The air blew through its way,
And clearly went far from bay,
I kept blowing my song of love,
That perhaps reached the sky above,
For the stars smiled at me,
And the moon shone across the sea,
As if I was in a fairy land,
And so beautiful looked the white sand!
And that fairy, leafy distant thing,
For whom destined was I to sing...
 Came afloat to me so pure,
Only love could hold such lure,
 She came rushing in,
As if she was the wildest thing,
She came to me to sweep me off-
My feet, and held me in air aloft,
I was about to lose my senses then,
And thought 'Was it joy or pain?'
She soared and soared with me high
Methought we would soon reach the sky,
She with me flew over to wondrous place,
Where poems and music only grace,
All things were full of joy,
The king's and the labourer's boy...
Both they played with equal hap,
From nature they gained their life's sap!

sinfully yours...

Dear miss pink,
Sorry for I gaped at you,
But your beauty was the only chink
In your stony, too apparent, outward view;

I'm sorry for my gaze
Looking at you like a man in a trance,
For your smile had that capricious maze
That sent me out in the rain to dance!

I'm sorry for being so curious
To get to know you up close,
Why there's a hint of morning tears?
Why so dry appears that lovely rose?

Are you amused by my look?
Are you happy deep inside?
Why in your hand there's a tragic book?
Why your eyes joy belied?

I wish I know everything...
What you read and write in Spring...
What do you in Autumn sing...
What does, to your lips, that smile bring...

What of Summer do you like-
The mango juice or the colors gay?
Do you hit the roads on bike?
As I do every other day?

Now I think my letter ends
With a note of childish hope,
Your presence only happiness sends
Though some joys are too hard to cope!

Sinfully yours, here I sign
Off your page so pink!
Forgive this writeup as a madness mine
But a man can only in a woman sink!

the cloud...

Why do I find you everywhere?
In geography books of standard seven,
In Steve Jobs' last great damn work even...
In Aristophanes' works also, I swear!
I find you written everywhere!
 In a form of a poem or a prose,
On the eyes of my lovely red, red rose;
Cloud! you stay like an idea fine,
Of a server unique or of life divine!
I find you as the woman and the cult,
Sometimes as the Nimbus, so difficult!
Cloud is a form of colloid-state
In which tiny drops of water mate!
Cloud is a stroke of his paintbrush,
On the painter's white-n-blue canvas...
Cloud is also a State of mind,
Of mere mortals,caught in daily grind! 

the brook...

Under the canopied sky...
The light so dim...
I saw her passing by,
Almost like a turbulent stream;

Her face had that void look
The glitter of something burnt for long;
Her face reminded me of a brook
That paved its way through stones strong;

The dark and bright her leather coat
With her face glossed over,
I could've taken my country boat
To take a ride by her stormy river;

But wasn't the sky a cloudy one?
Wasn't the stream so turbulent?
I got afraid of the dark cloud's frown
And the lightning that Perkunas sent!

So my boat stayed out of stream
And the brook went her way,
Only left her image, there, agleam
At the end of another day...

the Baronci Altarpiece...

Looking at your eyes so calm...
Is like getting nearer to your work,
Like a child so much enbalmed
By your paint,simply struck!

I look at those eyes again...
So much peace, they entail
Without blemish or the pain,
They take me out,on the bail...

They take me to the divine source
Where peace and love can only be,
I try to grasp the oil-on-wood course,
And the three angels of Baronci;

Nicholas of Tolentino stands there right
With the devil  down at his feet,
God of The Father, above him, bright!
And Blessed Mary with Augustine meet;

The angels and the devil
With Nicholas holding the center
My all darkness how they kill...
That work of Raphael, at Baronci Altar!

water-color

I see the cars so busily ply
On streets washed by the rain
Puddles luckily reflect the sky
And your face on Drury lane!

I see the city in black and white
Trembling, shaking, in the cold
I wait for the sun to shine bright
I see how raindrops on leaves, got sold!

I see how they run the car
Splashing mud on your sweet face,
I see how rhythm overflows the bar-
And catch you in newly woven dress!

Fresh as fresh as water color
On my lovely palette clean
Mud and filth hardly mar
Your presence, like an eternal scene!

You come to me with your heavenly bliss
Adding life and color to my city so blase,
You come like dreams which I miss
Under the dark clouds...so out-of-place!

my man...

Keeping empty my favoured cup
I waited for you to fill it up;
Keeping my morning bright and gay-
I waited for you the whole day;
I waited and waited under the frost
Like that woman in dreams lost;
I tired my eyes looking at clock
That ticked away 'hickory-dock'!
I shivered in cold under the open sky
Crying, screaming, heaving a sigh!
The day gradually waned to night
Methought the world shut its light...
Fears came as the night descended
Methought my life would now be ended!
For I saw a shadow of a Beast
I shivered within but clenched my fist!
I looked around to find a stone
Thinking of hurling to break his bone!
I picked it up and stood erect
Aiming the thing to the target direct...
Trembling and perspiring, came another thought
'Would I be able to forgive my lot?
 If this man with heavy arms
Molest me and rob my charms?'
I was sinking all again
'Should I lose my honour or fight in vain?'
Just then I heard a familiar tone
That like a torch in the dark, shone!
'You're still waiting? O my sweet doll!'
I opened my fist and saw standing tall-
My love, like a blessed man, smiling at me
With his face so brightened with glee!
I felt like crying and thumping his breast
But pretended aggrieved,and with feminine jest-
Asked him 'Who are you? What do you want?'
The man keeled down with marks supplant
All the fights that he so luckily survived
Came open like broad day light!
I saw on his limbs marks so deep
And could not but only weep;
Then he came to sweep me off
Like a feather so light and soft!
He took me in his muscled arms
Helping me to cry and throw qualms;
I forgot where we actually were
Whether it was a forest or desert so bare!
The only thought that played on,
Was the fact that all pains w're gone!
As if I got a newer birth,
As if Paradise had come on Earth!
As if the night would never end
As if a savior, the God to me, had sent!
I cried and laughed like a woman mad
Discovering happiness in his face so glad;
Carrying with ease, the feathery me
He walked the path of our destiny...

me, your Don Juan...

I wish you are still the same
Though God knows,
Whether Time has been the boon or bane...
But I wish you to remain the same!

I think you still wear that frock so green
Aging must've caught with you-
But you're still my silver queen,
I think you still have that frock so green!

I think you have still that smile,
Your face might've grown a bit old,
But I've also walked the mile
I think you still carry that smile!

I dream of you standing there
With that bouquet of flowers at hand,
I am sure I'll get you near
As I dream of you still there!

I know I have traveled far
You have also seen the life,
But I dream of you still! dear!
Though I've traveled wide and far...

You, I wish, still hum old song
Standing on that empty porch
Wearing that your green sarong
I wish still you hum that song!

I think I saw you there
At the market the other day,
You were walking on feet so bare
I think I saw you walking there!

You pehaps have forgotten me
The boy with that restless mind,
But I am no longer that busy bee
Cause my flower has forgotten me!

I wish I could touch your lips
Kiss you there with eyes closed,
But the digital time forever beeps-
Don't know how could I kiss your lips!

I hope you still carry that heart,
That flared up mind,that ignited brain,
And your passions are still intact!
I hope you still carry that heart!

God must be the all knowing one,
Pushing me faraway from you,
But haven't you been that lovely swan?
And me, your only Don Juan?

Please don't dismiss me
As a fictional libertine,
I am your only Don Giovanni
So you please not dismiss me!

a traveler...nonetheless...

When I grew up to youthful best
I would ask my mom often
'What would happen to me next?'

My mama, through her specs,
Would look at me for a minute or two
And then she would just me embrace
And say 'I wish you would be the traveler, true!'

I never made out then
What my mama wanted to mean,
But her words, like a refrain,
Kept on coming back to me;

Now that I look at the pages
Filled with love and love alone
I think I traveled... nonetheless
As my mom wished me to...

sexy...

She stood there
Striking a pose almost...
Arc lights white
Fell on her hair
And the arms spread like two wings to take you for a flight
Fantastical!

Her perfect shape
Beckons you always...
As you feel the blood getting boiled with so indescribable pain of getting loose...
You move towards her...
She striking a pose...
So bloody real!
As if she would take you to pleasure-dome...
Her shiny bosom...
As perfect as those carved on Khajuraho...
You look at her every pores of skin...
Every lines and curves...
So distinguished features...
As if you feel the mind losing sanity...
As if you wish to dive into that flowing stream of  burning passion....

So sexy...
The picture of the model
On the wall of the mall...
Selling lingerie...

the old granny under that tree...

You will invariably find her there
Under that sprawling tree
With her wares spread...vegetables, eggs, flowers...a curious combination...
A grand old woman in white saree
So dutifully bound still on her frail charms...
Her face carrying all the historic imprints of the ages...

Ages of struggle...
Of losing her husband on the third anniversary of her marriage...
Of bearing her only son all alone, like a never-say-die foot soldier...
Of surviving the massacre of people that broke out after a demolition of a religious shrine...far away from her home...
Of living life truely dangerous...
Of fighting it out with teethed grit...

Everytime, I pass by her
I stop if my daily drama allows me to look at her face and her wares...
Simple things...like duck's eggs, tamarind ripe, coriander leaves,small blossoms of different hues, bananas, betel leaves...
All kept side by side on a big green banana leaf...
You can take your pick...
And the granny would never ask you for the money...
Instead she would ask you if your kid is all right
Or whether your dad is keeping his blood glucose level under check...
As if she knew you all too well...as if she had been to your house several times!
The granny is a loveable one...
She sells eggs, vegetables...
But never asks for money
For she would just bind you with an elderly affection...
Like a true granny...
She would tell you anecdotes and snippets
Of life...

The old granny in white saree...with crow's feet beside her both eyes...
With a wrinkled face...
Cobwebbed eyes...
But sharpest mind and
An extraordinary human heart...pouring out love...
All the time;

(see another rendition of the above scribble, in my mother tongue at  http://www.theboatsong.blogspot.com/p/mother-tongue.html )

missing that country road...

That country road never took me home-
It took me away rather!
But I miss it every day..
I miss riding my bike through it...a bumpy ride
Ups here...downs there...uneven like a mountain terrain almost!
Lined by wild wild bushes and shrubs with glow-worms scattered on them like natural pyro-art!
And the smell of the river coming to my nose...the road went straight to the river bank...
not straight in literal terms, though!
The road was potholed...muddy...and how perilous it had been during rains!
I skidded several times, went off balance...fell on its swampy surface...filled with dirt and the mud...
But then, I got up and kicked my bike again to roar away the silence of the night there!
Surrounded by darkness, barring the headlamp of my bike...acting like the only source of luminance there!

The country road...
Took me away to meet that old boatman, weaving fishnet on his boat, anchored firm on the soft grassy bank of my river so beautiful at night..my sweet river reflecting the distant lights from the opposite bank...
The road I took on to get the first taste of the smoke...
The road which led me to that old outhouse of a zamindar whose descendants vacated the house long before I was born perhaps!
The road that helped me to know how banyan tree also oozes blood of its own, if it is bodily hurt...
that expressive white sap flowing down its trunk...
The road that put before me another side of the coin of life...
Another side of hunger,deprivation and darkness...looming large over shanties...over people who spend their days and nights there...with faces so bony...with physical attributes revealing the superstructure inside their bodies...

That road of the country side I miss, dear...
That took me away from my home...

Raatri...my woman...

Raatri came today
In a different attire,
Stars all over her body
At the end of my reverie;

She, the night came today
Covering her face by the flame,
I was then in a seizure
Couldn't recognize my dame!

(for another version of this, in my mother tongue, see  http://theboatsong.blogspot.com/p/mother-tongue.html)

you are an electron!

You are a momentous feeling...like an electron!
A fleeting image...going round me but rarely caught secured!
Here you now on my bosom...
There you are the next moment
At the farthest orbit, away and beyond my reach!
You're an electron!
Vibrant, restless, jumping and spinning and dis-stabilizing my proton-neutron combination at one moment...
Stabilizing the whole affair the next!

I see you rejecting my simple stare
Which could have been a poem, dear!
I see you next coming to me
With all your beauty uncovered!

You're my momentary bliss
You're my tempestuous disquiet...
You're my ignited soul,
You're my frozen heart!

You!
A mirage...
A disillusionment..
An evasive glow...
A pervading passion...

You're a momentous being...
Just like an electron
Spinning around my nucleus...
And jumping orbits always...
Sending protons of energy with specific frequency...
Stabilizing and dis-stabilizing me...
All the time...
Making me positive ion charged sometimes...
Sometimes full of negativism!

i love my morning walks...

I love my morning walks...
For my walk in the morn, takes me round the roads and the streets with traffic lights blinking for no one...
Kind of redundant traffic lights blinking...and the zebra crossings with no one to walk on them...
And the pigeons and the swallows on the empty lanes...
Sometimes I meet old ones...sitting at the park, sipping tea from earthen pots and talking about degrading health of theirs...
I meet rarely young ones...
But when I meet them, I usually find them cycling hard...earplugged...or jogging fast-almost sprinting...

I love my walks...in the morn...
My walks take me to the old temple at the fringes of the city...
To the river...flowing so carefree...with boatmen going out...
To the post office building yet to be opened but its long stairs...serving as seating arrangement right beside the road...for some wayfarers...
I find life getting on to its rhythm, slowly...kind of shaking off the slumber of the night...early in the morn...

Haven't I said that I love my morn walk by the lake?
The lake so blue with swans and ducks taking their first bath of the day... shaking their white feathers to send tiny water drops shooting into different directions...spraying water almost...and making curious, joyous sounds to their mates perhaps...
And the reflection of the sky on the stagnant clean water...the lake becomes the mirror true for the sky, to help her dress up for the day!

I love my morning walk...
For sure!
My walk brings me down on to the earth's motherly lap...
It provides me a visit to Heaven, every morn...
A tranquil, blessed, walk...in the morn...
A walk to get me ready for the run-of-the-mill life of the later hours of the day...

love... must be God's tricky ploy!

 I could hear the soft noise of dry leaves running across the empty road
Favoured by the strong breeze, as they were...
They must be running frantically-
Laughing and dancing...all through,
Like children set free from the neighbourhood school;

I shoved aside the heavy curtain of my room
Viewing the road below...
Late wet evening road...sparsely populated...
Only that small shop at the corner still open...
And the faint light from the display board
Fell on the road...
Making the corner a little bright compared to the rest;


I looked out to gather
The moist vapour on my skin...
Just then a whiff of air came
Carrying the smell of my childish infatuation...
I found my poem walking back home
At the end of the day, spoiled...
And her white dress so soiled
Made me unhappy;

The air must have been my friend
For I was carried to her as well
By the moist air...
She looked up straight...looking at my window...and my silhouette
For a moment, I was ashamed, by my shameless act...
For a moment, I felt I was on the wrong foot...
But the same air moist, carried her smell to me
And her eyelashes were heavy for sure...at the end of her day...
Spoiled...

She slowed a bit, hung her head, to look at my empty gaze...
She stopped perhaps, limped as if, seeing me waiting still...
Then she did the wondrous thing...
Waved at me, she, and flashed a smile...
Asking me to move away from the pane;

My heart then, leaped with joy,
Love must be God's tricky ploy;
Happiness begets a man like me,
Spoiled someone light in me, foresee!

drops of poesy!

Drops of water on my window glass
Drops of water on my eyes,
Drops of tears on the blades of grass
Drops of sadness in your sighs!

Drops of memories come like rain
Drops of thirst on the street,
Drops of blood evade the pain
Drops of light with the darkness meet!

Drops of hunger on your face
Drops of orange paint on your wall,
Drops of stories suddenly surface
Drops of poison herald my Fall!

Drops of poesy take it all
Drops of frenzy seep...
Drops of happiness sweeten the gall
Drops of poesy through the curtain peep!

a name so known...yet...

Heard that name somewhere...I guess...
So known...this name of yours...
Just like the known smell of blossoms that you left every morn at my door, so fresh!
Like that known sight of the dusk on your photoframe...the road on the picture going straight into a forest...
Like those known memories nascent...floating in the air of the winter, on the wane...
Like those known curves and figures on the geometry book...penciled,erased,dotted,marked- several times...
Heard that name somewhere, I guess...
So known...this name of yours!

kohl lined eyes...

'Is the food good?'
She came and asked me softly
As I was looking at my saucer white
Mostly unoccupied, being a conscious dieter...barring a piece of butter chicken soft...
'Hey! you're not eating!'
She exclaimed almost and asked someone to deliver me more food and beverage...(my glass was half filled)

I was not particularly hungry...
But I looked at her kohl lined eyes...
Highlighted brows...
'You look like some Egyptian goddess!'
I hushed aside to her, smiling...looking at her face...
So bright, soft, composed, fresh, confident...
'Thanks...now get on with your food...you've remained the same...reluctant eater...'
She murmured, jokingly;

I smiled, looking down at my saucer...
'Now...now...please eat something...'
She pleaded, drooping a bit
I looked up from my empty plate, almost
To meet her kohl lined eyes...
Those pair of killing eyes...
Those curious kind eyes...
'I'm okay...you need not to worry about me so much...I eat less...'
I muttered;
'Who knows better than me? are there any? anyone?'
She asked, smiling, quickly making her brows dance twice, quizzically...

'No...no kohl lined eyes...'
I said, and signaled the valet to serve me with beverage fresh...
'Really?'
She said, looking at me probably...
I didn't notice...
I was looking at my glass being filled...
'That's not good...kohl lined eyes are not always good...they might be feigning goodness...'
She said before slipping away from me calling someone by the name...another guest of hers perhaps...


'Hey!'
I called her from behind...and
She turned, looking over her shoulders...expectant...
'Don't use kohl...it contains lead sulfide anyway...not good for your eyes...'
I said, gathering a momentum of sorts...speeding through the statement almost!
She smiled, candid...
'I'll remember...'
She said, before turning her head and taking part into an interesting gossip with her friends...
About the elopement of someone's wife...
With someone's husband...perhaps...