Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Moonlit night

I am that moonlit night
distinctly lustrous 
 staring heart of yours
You feel and enfold
in pockets of your mind
countless rebirths
for a single
ecstatic death.

I am that moonlit night
placidly illusive,
quivering body of yours
 determines to slay
and get slain
O poet, don't!
I am not a complex text
for your brain's workout
but a soulful song
offering lasting youth.

I am that moonlit night
Tis not me, playing
you play hide and seek.
My absentminded poet
clutch me with love
for I am the spark
on the ridge of your eyes.. .

Monday, November 5, 2012

Half filled basket

photo source- moon flower

I went to the dense forest of my vision 
to collect some flowers for my deity,
holding my basket avowedly empty,
I went down a path silky and moonlit.
I looked up and saw giant trees branched out,
all of them emanating wondrous charm and beauty
and a lot many unseen were luring my passion of still more wondrous things 
that I couldn't tell between my minds image and reality.
I moved forward in search of a flowery plant 
that would match best my perception and reach.
After a lot of searching I found the best one
at the edge of a silvery, snaky flowing spring
filled with milky flowers, moon soaked, splendid.
With a great adoration I began plucking them one by one
holding the image of my deity crystalline gold
I plucked them all that touched my fingers and heart
then I looked at my basket which was still filled half
I felt sorry as there were no more I could pluck
as rest of the flowers were beyond my reach, placed high enough.
I feared my basket would left half filled owing to my ill luck.
I moaned and moaned and looked here and there
The dawn was painting crimson to my basket and else where
meanwhile the silvery plant  was departing from me, bidding adieu.
I looked on and on, holding my basket half filled I looked in wonder 
and in no time realised that I had missed much more.
I forgot to see the wondrous beauties near the ground
those were overlooked and unnoticed as I didn't bend a little
I could have plucked them all for my magnificent deity
and my basket could have been perfectly filled...

Friday, November 2, 2012


Picture By- Blue paper

Whenever I come across the sight of a crematorium
I stop and my mind stops at nearby ground
and it feels the emptiness of its fullness
in all its ornamentation
when ornaments certainly are out of control!
They all would leave one by one
for their own destinations of choice..
And where a lifeless body would burn
 the bird would there be left bare alone.
then it would find its unadulterated real gesture
a self luminous, blatant mirror 
the lucidity of which would release senses one by one 
and the air would be filled with 
divine smell of sandalwood 
from the deserted burning existence
The bird would peacefully be watching over.
I stop at the sight and take a deep breath
and feel my bird silently watching over..
 wave of love runs all over me
for my innocent bird, and my eyes get moistened
my foot feels few drops of the fallen tear.
I bow down to collect them
and put on my forehead on the crematorium ground
pure and auspicious those are the real ornaments for me 
so my bird drinks them all.
And I go on loving my little bird  
whenever I come across the sight of a crematorium...

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Melodic elevation

When rain drops fall arrhythmic
an angelic melody is earned
deep within heart 
and our soaked beings invite
each other
to get drenched 
in a sublime desire, together
and our souls soar high
in unison
to find the self
 in the other.

This prompt reminds me of a beautiful Hindi song. The poem is based on the picture and the song.