Tuesday, December 6, 2011


Courtesy- John Constable

Star flowers of night 
are falling off on your expanse
   fragrant breeze is playing insane...
diddering dews are dancing around
with their sparkling hue
on my window pane..

Birds of heaven are chirruping crazy
crickets are hopping winsomely
seemingly so busy!
A cowherd boy while guiding cattle
is singing blithely a peculiar song..
though unknown to me
reaches my heart like a sweet hurt..
a nostalgia coming along..

It takes me unto sky line
and drops me back at my window pane..
with my cup filled with sunshine..
Shortly I see my mother
She holds a kettle of fresh tea....
and serves me a cup 
along with her magical smile...

I take that greedily and pour into it
all my golden sunshine...
Every sip of my sunshine tea
fills me with a strange vigour...
to set out for a unique day
and that makes a perfect morning ...
sweetly innocent, pure and compassionate 
 just as my mother...

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Poet and thief

A scary night that was...
a solitary thief sets out for his regular job
to taste a better luck....
Owls were howling and dogs were barking,
but the daring moon was merrily smiling up in the sky..
Crushing his fear under his boot
the brave thief walks forward
and at a lonesome house he stops by..
the moon danced on the sign board
on entrance, reading "Mr Poet's house"
The poor thief stood a while
and began thinking
I have heard "pen is mightier than the sword"
 the poet might have some bizarre weapon 
I must be careful at every step 
while moving inside the poet's abode..

Doors were not locked, windows were open...
what a damn fool could the poet be 
to give me a fairer chance! 
whispered thief to himself ... 
and entered into a big room 
having large beautifully carved cupboards in both sides
The thief smiled widely
with hope and joy opened one...
and suddenly got shocked to see
hundreds of elephantine books kept attune...
My God, what a misfortune
murmured the thief
and he was fleeing soon..

but alas
someone catches him by his collar
the thief was caught..
It was the poet with his weapon in one hand
in a very serious poetic mood...
awake and restless night creature
like a sprawling ghost...
who was dwelling in a lonely place
far away from crowd 
to get a better poetic mood
and he hated disturbance of any sort
so, all the time he would wear 
a clean face and a shaved head...

The poet pleaded, "gentle man
It's nice, I got you..
Was in search of a person
who would be listener of my new poems...
I am not going to let you go..."
he tied the thief hard with a rocking chair...
and the whole night read his slurred poems
where words were taking various routes 
to attack the poor thieve's guts
just when the nerves of the poor thief 
was made a sandwich
the thief promised the poet 
to gift him with handsome money
if he lets him go ...
And the poet got his reward
ten thousand bucks
at the dawn..
The poet was smiling and thanking 
for the price of his poems...
and the poor thief
was repenting on entering a wrong house...
to have experienced such a worst night of
being caught by a poet...


Thursday, October 27, 2011


photo- Internet

Far in a foggy forest, solemnly sitting dove...
First kiss of dew, on a modest shrub....
In that nameless domain secretly blooms a rose..
on her blush petals, bold spring's repose...
Gently touches her the king of sky... 
and queen of earth slowly opens her eye..
Far on a blue mountain dancing peacock..
by his side rain kissed singing rock... 
plays some juvenile fun, the maiden moon...
 that mighty sea is enamored soon...
What makes you crazy O adorer rove..
drink up honey unto your soul- what you call "love"...

*I suppose king of sky is Sun and queen of earth is lotus flower...

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

My Journey from Lion's gate to Heaven's gate......

photo- Bijaylaxmi

   A footer ..
   what I am called by..
My town  
too is so small 
for my besotted foot...
 a by line footer I am, 
aimless, lonesome and lost
in panorama of musing...

On my crowded path all along
seasons play dampened...
   figuring out my composed show... 
I, walk and watch
that's a sound vow..
a whispering in the open air...

Ahead is lion's gate
embraced with thirsty wants..
I watch over the game
how a bread appears..
as a moon and then a piece of rubbish...
and when pearl can turn into pebble, 
the flag of blue hill flutters
assuring of an insight..
that arouses a craving to renounce
and to hug him
    in a timeless manner.... 

I enter into my memory lane..
where every bit of earth 
remained as before..
but the known faces are hidden...
many old smiles-tears, love-hatred
have chosen their home
somewhere nearby
  in an unexplored arena...
I watched pigeons flapping wings
in different modes
   having same feather.. 

Yet A footer
  aimless, lonesome and lost
  in panorama of musing...
have appeared before the heaven's gate..
where earthen pots find their real form..
and I found my partner 
standing besides me
and in front of us unfathomable 
curling ocean of future..
I am happy..
yet my partner wonders
standing on razor's edge of illusion
on one side- a burning body 
and on the other side- a tandoori fish.. 

*Lion's gate (Singha Dwara)- is the main entrance of Jagannath temple at Puri known to be the sole refuse of desperate...
*Heaven's gate (Swarga Dwara)- is the holy mortuary where as per Hindu belief humans get salvation...

Wednesday, October 12, 2011


Photo- Bijaylaxmi

Crushing hard, the limbs of night
glowing vistas of light..
igniting ecstasy of show off 
of boom, bang and gaiety..
display gait of carnival..

Yet of souls..
of running souls..
Their masks colored bright..
scented, polished and stylized...
The vivid players showered with light
 exhibit several skilled gestures...  
Yet to hold on and on
as long as carnival gets on
That makes their only goal...

Crushing hard the limbs of night
glowing vistas of light..
igniting ecstasy of show off 
of boom, bang and gaiety..
display gait of carnival..

Yet of souls 
of slugging souls
Their masks benighted
lousy, passe and spoiled.. 
The tired players behind the scene,
who never get a touch of light.. 
their lull souls bereft of hope..
play secretly their favorite role... 
Yet.. to hold on and on
as long as life passes on
That makes their only goal...

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Snake Charmer

                                                The Snake Charmer, Henri Rousseau, 1907
                                                              Courtesy-  Magpie Tales                                              

                                                           Capricious that moony night
captivates my craving so skillfully...
drags all senses deep into
cryptic forest of sully....

Recollections- creeping along smoggy lane
underneath my mounting adjure...
With a malign intention of aggression
they collect together...

Attachment that shrubs around
grapples lovelorn moonbeam...
and I plead for some mystic nectar..
to feed my depiction slim... 

I could have been taken away...
I could have been driven vicious.....
with every lick of venom...
that I'm coiled by grime luscious

Events repeat and stories retold...
of moonbeam, shrubs and my confession... 
yet I'am in calmness, having been mastered the skill
reconciling perfectly in appealing fashion...


Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Thirst of the cloud

Photograph by me

Beneath canopy of the unbound sky
   my engrossed heart…
   looking for whose footfall…! 
in my solitary space and time
 whom do I call?

To portraiture my rover thought..
hath arrived that celestial picture 
just alike- a lone ponderer …
  a cloud over...

I welcomed with an ardor
my cloud rover
with a wide smile from remote
land of sheen and green..
Addressing upon my companion
I pleaded over-
O beloved cloud
I wander
You too wander..
you wander enjoying all
glory of paradise
and I wander with all afflictions
of my thirty life on catchy soil..
 so fortunate you are.. 
touching acme of the sky...!!!
Says then my sole celestial fellow
with utter warmth and solace
 In vast expanse of sky
what am I? 
      but a poor insect…
       restless my soul in love with soil…
 with a desire to kiss her face
roving around
to compass her best..

You dwellers of earth, 
enjoy all the eternal joy
of love, forgiving  
compassion and tender...
my dear earth rover,
do respond…
What fortune could be
same as your?

 To feel that joy
Thirsty I, wander near versant ..
 Being embraced by
my darling hill
still thirsty my soul
fall down
upon earth turning into tears
on the rich bosom of my hill
    flow away forming into river rill…

POETRY PICNIC - Thanks to Shashi Sir for the prompt

Thursday, September 15, 2011


Photographed by me

Picture of flood in river Mahanadi

Dedicated to flood affected poor people.. 

Embracing your every gesture..
of time crippled or sound...
living abreast you
celebrating on my existence
with a piercing cry
or a loud laughter...

Your disastrous dance... 
is taken easy as a scene of drama..
would certainly be ferried back
held assured..
 yet evokes tears ..
at once...

Once again you will be serene to love
yet I am homeless-hapless 
to get your modest touch..
Thorny bed of fate awaiting thirsty...
yet to suck blood from beneath my feet
my wounded snap 
yet to be taken of rove..

Embracing dust , pebble and sunshine
on your beauteous bed
I am yet alive..
and they demand
a grand party of victory
from me on one new anniversary
  of my surviving... 


Poetry Potluck

Monday, September 5, 2011

In Worship of "Dark"

Photographed by me

Whence emerge waves all
and yet merge in lull;
whence begin seasons high
  and thither slumber shy...
whence descends the light
   unto meketh creation bright...

Thou art O dark
 sole grace of cosmic embark ..
acme of revelation 
   whence all triumph set in motion...
Thou art bare eternal
whence ceases elements vital..
I- thine child nescient 
Thou- my sole refuse, O Mother Night...


Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Voyagers set out 
    for their unique treasure lands...
boarded in separate vessels
of unique desires

yet how enclosed together
to be mingled
with one another?
Ain't an invisible scoff
of time's little show off!

Each enamored with
self possession vies for
and power..
      for a little touch of pleasure..
blind folded their hearts 
soon get mired
with one another..

Something hard pulls
towards a vicious circle..
and all get into the band...
Far up yells the unseen-
Voyager- far off
your treasure land...

Thursday, July 14, 2011


Photo by- Udayan Sarathi Behera

Who art thou? 
Questions in my unripe mind.........! 
art thou portrayal of my yesterday,
 today and  tomorrow? 
Art thou my thought and deed, 
desire or else lust,
 retention or else loss…! 
in the scale of my vision, 
can thou be caught ever? 

I have heard, thou art there....
in the sky, in the air 
in the aqua and in fire....
in the enchanting smile of a baby;
inside the veil of a modest bride
or else in action, devotion;
love and faith ..       

Art thou present in the scent of flowers?
or else worshiped in Temple, Church
 Masjid, or Gurdwara...! 
thou art the flute of Giridhari,
center of innumerable souls,
center of mortal life....
Yet, in the scale of my vision, 
can thou be caught ever? 

I searched thee to maketh 
my wants get fulfilled...
with my clumsy, deceptive mind 
a delirious I.....
some day found my desire yielding fruits
      as of then my search for thee ..
turned a closed chapter 
    in the book of my life.....

Shameless I, 
your difficult child, 
once again came back ending my game....
searching thee once again.....
away from thine compassion how could I stay....? 
nothing else do I desire but only a glance ....
I am praying thee.... 
Oh eternal, thou art my idol of faith, 
thou art my future world..
Yet, in the scale of my vision, 
can thou be caught ever? 

Keeping thou in heart..
   O faith...
     May thou be seen in one halcyon slumber…
    I am awaiting for thee……
       now and ever...... 

Wednesday, July 13, 2011


Ornamented with 
shiny black letters
line by line...
-a fine text-
does it make some sense-
   as a wonderful thought...?

Strengthened with 
strong binds,
bundle of printed papers 
page by page...
does it sound like a book
or else the knowledge sought..!

Blessed with
love and attention
bulks of books
does it tell something more
or just what has been taught...!

I know not any other...
besides the book
with me
and I am it's author...
it does value a lot enough to me...
  it's "life"- where I am caught....

Prompt- Thursday Think-tank #56

Monday, July 11, 2011

Real Colour

fallen in the whirlpools of time 
what wonderful colours does samsara make...
blue, orange, green, crimson and more
having been touched by all.....
at last touches me black
for sure...
What a colour; so stubborn 
to entrap me...
More I do wash it off
more it pulls me close...
and now I find not alone soma
but psyche in its love...
at the fall of day comes night
awakening stars and moon...
though world sleeps
I being guard in the edges of dream
holding this earth 
am standing high...
Love stricken I
following black
  have attained that magnificent look... 
     your tree of strive.....
connecting earth to heaven
   and inanimate to alive....

*Samsara- terrestrial world 

Sunday, July 10, 2011

The Summer

Wheat Field with Rising Sun, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

    Golden angel has spread wings...
 soon a blazing day appeared..
as a promise carried through
and the breathe reared...

glistering hills and houses almost 
standing tall aspire to kiss the sky
pine trees yet beaming with joy
have a chit-chat with creepers 
    n bushes nearby.....

baby cloud came along 
slowly crawling over them
and stopped by crying on her way,
requesting to take her
in arm and to have a play...

So pampering and loving
a hill made the baby calm...
uttered holding smile pure...
"O baby get back home to grow big
come later with friends, it is yet summer.."

"it is yet summer" a chorus was heard
from a distant field...
the grains were dancing in trance
being adorned with attires of colour  
and the Golden Angel sighing peacefully; 
rose wondrous nature... 

For- magpietales


Tuesday, July 5, 2011

I have a soul...

Unheeded unloved
reposing upon my clutched notions..
within ambit of nothingness
I try to hold some crimson 
from rising sun...
I try to steal
 a slight odour
     from an evening breeze...

My self 
  romancing upon that mystic
modest bewitching smile...
I would...

My ambition or folly
yet I would wait 
for your devoted love
O Michel Angelo
 you have to announce
for me-  
  "yay....I have a soul"...

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Beaming envisions

Shepherd watches over
flock of obedient crops….
Carefully acting upon living
whole day long…

When wraps up
at the end of the episode
keeps aside carefully again
to cook for a new show…

He sleeps so also his crops
But awakens envisions beaming
heartening up soul
teaching over
 to hang on with strings
or unstrung…

Friday, June 24, 2011


A dry plant on parched soil
in blurry imagination
and a lump in throat...
I found you..
beneath wretched curtain
 draped in dust....

merciless time listens whom..
      would have listened your ...!
You paid off
beauty, glory and love
and he paid
only a number?

Holding speechless you, I amaze
how did your playing end
and how you did turn hazy....
may be It was not you
but my truth amidst
a life crazy... 

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The brick wall

Build a brick wall
strong and sturdy
to home your love
  and not your ego...

Build a brick wall
brilliant and majestic
to carry your glory
  and not your fright... 

Build a brick wall
rough and stubborn
to frustrate savage
  and not kindness...

Build a brick wall
neat and painted
in your abode
  and not in hearts...

Build a brick wall
with disposition true
and learn to 
  move through...

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The Golden Maiden

On the emanating shores of time
resting alone golden maiden
promising sublime
bringing together earth and sky...
her face bright glorying
like a baby peeping
through the window of unknown..
towards vast conscious high...

She carries the air and fire
within the ridges of her waist 
she too brings all
the summer, winter and fall...
roars of clouds and sea 
Inside her snug womb awaits life
and she sings a lullaby with her silent lips
for the unheard call...

Photograph by- MAGPIE TALES

Tuesday, May 24, 2011



I have nothing to carry
besides the faith unbound
that makes me one with you......

Tried manifold manners to enfold ego....
with furry cocoon cover..
When body temperature rose
thereby to hundred three
I named that season's fever.....
and giggled in psychophansy
looking at bag full of vegetables,
a new morning and fragile glee....

Now flushing out loose and lost...
leaving aside all bridges
I named my emotions........
the relations moving backward
and mute spectator....
I am yelling inside
and staring at what is left.....
my rotted out body....
or unsteady lines of nostalgia.....!
but yet I am there
my floppy aspiration like
white hanging clouds
Watching beneath a golden robe.......
stretched towards your bluish touch...


What could I carry.......
besides the golden robe
that makes me one with you......

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Spring is not far to come

O intellectuals of twenty-first century...
You, with your blazed hearts,
grievous minds
and imperiled consciences
for few minutes
come to this
blue domain of autumn........

Far away in the sky
stars are staring at the earth
like wondering twinkling eyes
of small kids.
Look at those......

Sitting on the table of grass
grasshoppers are whispering
a song with zest....
listen to their song.
and if you can
have a friendly gossip with them....
then do what I say.......

Turn your minds
into some dazzling colorful butterflies
and let those fly....
turn your hearts into some fresh velvety flowers
and let those bloom..
and you make yourselves
kids roaming around arrhythmic
to catch those butterflies
and to pluck those flowers.....
see, spring is not far to come........

Translation of Gotie Nibedana of poet Brajanatha Ratha

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Three Poems


Somber of night an illusory mirage 
Endless thirst morning haze........... 
Days make aimless path 
Crazy rover, Vagrant heart 
Chases for the last asylum 
to be lost in the great confluence 
as do the beloved and lover 
Ocean and river...... 
and they make one 
being mingled to each other...... 


Who is coming with the thrills 
of soft breeze 
arousing inside heart a desire to burn 
as would be forest fire a fiary 
seeing me alone counting my past 
twinkling like stars 
laughs the new comer.... 


In lone my thought 
calling you oh crazy moon.......... 
all my cajoling went in vain 
you could not forget those flowers of past 
which while falling aired its odor 
which lust made you blind 
that odor comes often in your mind...... 
makes you fall in her sweet hurt.... 

now you have arrived 
oh silvery moon from far horizon....... 
carrying the boons of new creation....... 
you sprinkle the nectar rain...... 
but still the lost odor 
has become your stain.. 

The sea at the sundown

The lovable sun in the scarlet sky....
in the horizon far and high......... 
with a beamish face, 
a beam of aspiration...... 
exposing the color of mirth 
howling sea comes and goes....... 
distorting and coloring himself, 
performs a play on the beach 
wavy sea curling the earth 
as pretty earth has a hairdo.... 
juvenile moon in the far sky....... 
grins and sprinkles sweet love.....
O golden sea, your glory is, 
making crazy the lovers... 
O darling moon, 
how quietly in action...... 
you arouse desire and passion.....! 
My fortune to view your celestial face, 
oh nature, your splendour 
makes my eyes cease..... 
beholding my mind 
being swayed 
by the crazy breeze....