Thursday, November 21, 2013

Smell of an old book





Often when wintry smog blankets my distance corn fields
in no time fumes of reminiscences come out of a familiar chimney.

One by one cranes in curve of my eye balls pass by.

The smell of Mahua flowers fills up my heart.

Then I am back to me with excess of it.

Often when the four walls of my existence entraps me in sombre,
Mahua again comes from inside an old book. .

At once Basabadutta gives a nubile blink.

The cloud sets out as the messenger of Yakshya.

and in idleness I think of an appointment with J M Keynes and Lenin.

8 comments:

  1. woww I so loved the flow of the poem and the vivid imagery it paints... how beautiful

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  2. Wow! U love Keynes and I bet you an Economics student. Beautiful and heart wrenching poem on the love for books. super like:)
    www.vishalbheeroo.wordpress.com

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  3. Beautiful.. I had to read it twice to understand what was the context, but it's just awesome how you connected the mahua's journey from the corn fields to the heart of a book.

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  4. Beautiful poetry ....Just loved it through out ...

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