Thursday, May 26, 2011


How sound it is to think straight
when the world weave around
a cotton yarn on spin wheels
for seasons to cover their
reasoning on face masks

Oh love! i wish
i could bury even the whole
seasons in one coffin so that
the new eras would not
see the ruins of your honored
silent alphabets of revenge..

uesday, November 30, 2010


Is this the same November I shed tears
for a season of nightmares
or is this the November of my rebirth
in  artistic fonts spread acroos
the ravins of a green forest...
I can not find April  rains
or fire near summer hills
but I clearly trace out
how shadows envelop
the banyan trees of  my origin
and earthen elongings..
and I wonder is this the same November
on which I walked towards
one December snowfield
in earthen autumn drapes…..

Sunday, November 21, 2010


It is time for me to take back my songs
in simple forms
from keyboards of years
which roll steady on equations
of day and night
It is time for me to play
my solo song in ocean strings
and in each note
let my heartbeat find melody
and in Autumn stars
let me light earthen lamps
to hide a season’s sorrow,
its dark nights
and its frightening
giant images on relfectors..

Saturday, November 20, 2010


Eyes can capture good ..
but your eyes were always
behind my ocean
to find what it holds
in its precious heart
and you found at the end
a few frivolous waves
and those waves told you
not about the heart
of my ocean but about
how bubbles are formed
in your eyesight….

Eyes can capture a lot
the most beautiful autumn sky,
sea shells and bamboo flutes
but your eyes conquered
at the end only the most unwanted
surface bubbles...
that is not your fault
you desired for that
surface bubbles...
and you got in basketfull...

I have seen life in different moulds
unwell in uniforms familiar to clinical comforts
in corridors of an infirmary
where life searched for  heartbeats
in fluid stands and people waited in Ques
not for tea or coffee cups
or to listen Sting Songs
And there all remembered silently
how important to hold a breath
in painkillers....

Selfishness sheltered my earth once
like winter snow covered on a hill
to vanish in summer heat
and my return from summer rains of April
I found  my origin in earthen footsteps
of selfless monsoon
I crossed a junction where timid minds
set standards in uneven podiums
and I heard a silent voice
sounded like the most irrelevant
page of an overpriced book......

Monday, October 11, 2010


It is my breath I place in one sea
or a sea conquers me
which has seen seasons, eras
and while i walk on that same sea
with no shields or swords
I write not words of love
in alphabets of hate as you do……..

Thursday, September 30, 2010


In this world of pretence
give me not again a mask as my friend
when I surrender to your Flute
oh Lord of Vrindavan
as in my seashore I find a lot of sea shells
to take in hand and play
where I not wish to form a pyre
for my life on a hidden image
and my reflections I want to place
before a horizon of east
where I can light again a lamp
for your flute .......

Monday, September 27, 2010


Yes it is true!!
from that green valley
I have seen him killing sparrows and nightingales
in his brain cells sharp like a dagger
Behind tree branch shadows I watched his gaze
But I have seen him killing sparrows
and nightingales in one tangled net
And he walked back through a river slide
after the hunt
A duck there on his shoulder
Near the foothills he walked past
a flagpost and his own shadows….

Saturday, September 18, 2010


I know you want to go on flower roads of spring
and on your way I know
you want to throw a few branches
of thorn plants towards my ocean shores
as morse codes of revenge
Let me tell you
my earth has no time to walk
in your planetarium of thorns as a victim
or to be a convict in your museum of love
where you display
past, present and many futures, fortunes
in glass cases like a God of Planets
That game you played
Not once; several times
In adhesive tape bands
I don’t want to bind my earth
as a tied up fragment
there I prefer not add on ads
to glorify your reflection
or to glorify my fragment of earth
as I know you more
than what you know about me
and my heart is such that
it runs on a fluid called blood
and that flows not on your
knotted  brain maps.....

Saturday, September 11, 2010


Who stands there behind me
with an ink bottle of black
when I walk back to my monsoon
raindrops from summer hills of April
I know I lost my flower soft words
but I lost not  my monsoon
in words
Who stands there behind me
with a tree branch of shadows
when I walk back to my tiny
orange earth
far far away from islands of past
who stands there near my monsoon
like a stranger……

Friday, September 10, 2010


Yes it is true
I thought that river would unplug
its hidden rear streams from my earthen
plateaus on the day it formed a base
and structure
far far away from the memory shores
of my south east ocean
but to my surprise
I find the same river
flowing down towards past
behind my earth
down from hills to the streams
I don't know

Sunday, September 5, 2010


When is the last time
I wrote a word like a song
and I think it is today
in this morning
when I walked past a river
and a few clouds
and on my way to a seaside
I find my flute from a valley
covered on fog
like in winter
where shadows danced
beneath mist
and that mist is vanished
in summer heat
and for all the summers to come
Beyond that my earth in orange
encounter not with any more shadows
as season changed
from summer to monsoon
like a song

Yes, it is true,
I got this passion
for poems certainly
and I love that passion
more than my life
like one ocean
that roars in and around me
from one tiny conch shell
and if a few ink drops
thicker than blood
frame a portrait in square box
sheet to disfigure my passion
to praise someone
who sells conscience
in open barters
I tell those ink marks
to continue,
continue to float
a river of effluents
as ink is not my medium
and I paint my passion
In raindrops
In oceans
In earthen dreams.....

Saturday, September 4, 2010


There is a dream in me
like a flower blossomed
in one monsoon rain
and in raindrops
I walk back to my village
home, to my origin
in earthen fragrance
and the only treasure
I lost not and with me
is my pure conscience
on which I place
all my dreams
and in fragment
of  my orange earth
I carry my monsoon
rain drops
like a feather soft dream
of one ocean unknown…..

Friday, September 3, 2010


In one featherlike
dream of my golden memoir
once arrived a word
from my village home
to tell me about mountains
and meridians
of this universe and about
a secret pillar on which earth hides
its magnetic halo
far far away from the synthetic costumes
of urban conscience
and about a monsoon
that showers  all around
this earth and its ocean
in poem like rain drops…..

Thursday, September 2, 2010


I want to edit my life
for the lost days on which
I cried not for me but for this earth
and for its elements earthen
I want to edit my life
not on tunes
you try to enforce on me
not on wild drum beats
of a world divided
crashed, collapsed
in debris
but on melodies
melodies of rain drops and flute
and the soft whisper
of dreams
like heartbeats of oceans
like in a poem

Wednesday, September 1, 2010


I know how to begin
and finish a word in blood
on my finger tips straight
from my heart’s chambers,
from my bloodstreams
not like a silent timid lake
Yes, I know that tactic
oh! the well behaved
your tactic
to nail speech in one coffin

of provocations
to portrait your frames
in images gold
and it is not the first day
of the year, if you remember
it is in third year we run
on which I transformed
from my ignorance to see
world in flagposts
In squares, in arithmetical
wild proportions
Oh the well behaved
Timid silent lake
you exchanged
your conscience
on barter table
your choice- a blunder
And stop performing stage shows
atleast for the sake
of those stars you once held
near your Flagpost

Monday, August 30, 2010


It is not alphabets or words
I have lost in funeral pyre
but a soft feather like feeling
which I thought genuine
in any day or night to be part
of humans
and in poems
it is beyond my thinking streams
to believe there rivers
flow across giant islands
and subcontinents to sell their own
souls in extreme rapids
It is not speech I lost
that arrived in me like sea
in torrential rains
from mountain peaks
but silence that I have lost
which shattered in pieces
like a crystal flower pot
when thin rectangular
replica of a medium
whispered in morse codes
from corridors of lost conscience
to shatter, dismantle
pillars on which truth tied its flag
and in my primitive soul
I fought a war against me on many
conflicts inner and outer
to let my chains free
and in pyres
I lost not words
but my smile and feelings
to silence
where I waited for rains
torrential to shower
all around me...

I am in memory line
of life in block prints
in various forms
in dimensions not even
like in batik
in a way I can walk back
in peace which I lost or thrown
like a glass cup
on which once I filled pearls
poem like words
and in my sea like shell
I search me,
the real one which hides
somewhere in between a sea
and my memory line
and away from realms
where I wandered once
to float a sea,
a sea infinite,
poem like
I am in memory line of Indian Ocean
in its flow, inside me
and in my soul
where I find drought
all of a sudden
but still sea gushes
a pull
and I am into it
sea and memories
I lost not both…..

Saturday, August 28, 2010


I transported my life
from a tiny village
to a hill town there my earth
rolled in heights far from
my dreamy seashores
History I learnt from school books
and in optionals
there I worried not
about historical events
in exclamations
as I studied breakthroughs
to merely score marks
But I feel a kind of pain growing
in me now when I read
about Raja of Sandur
and triangles on which brains
mine earth in fragments
for treasures hidden
and in genuine terms
Niyamgiri shows 
Dongria Kondh
Honestly like in any major
towns I know less about
exploited tribes where an India
exists away from the painted,
decorated India and even in that
painted decorated one I see a lot
in hunger and when I stand
away from seas
on one part of this earth
where pain is a layer
a layer people cover on paints
to think less about
the less fortunate
otherwise too
we are divided on fragments
from sea shores to sea shores
from tribes to tribals
mines to mountains….

Friday, August 27, 2010


Near one T Junction of life
I stopped for a while
To know where to go
Towards a sea shore
Or to one place where people
Gather to suffocate
Conscience in plastic bags
Non biodegradable
Where like in markets
People gather to sell
Hearts in glass boxes
As display items
Where my mind was in
Intensive cold unit
and when people negotiated
life on barters
in T junction
I heard sea like in one whisper
Like in one sea shell
Very close to my heart

Thursday, August 26, 2010


On designer tailored outfits
he shines like a metal fragment
he hides a formula track inside
on which he balances his high end skills,
skills on which he lived his life
in years to have more admires
in accountable numbers
and to find if anything there apart
from the outer glow I climbed
to that mountain flag post
in earthen drapes
to the peak to find 
to my surprise a distorted flag
not designer tailored but hand made
and in lightening and thunder
rain showered all around me
I climbed down calm
to find the same soul near that foothill
rushing towards the same formula track
to have more admires
to have more glory
is that ultimately your life?

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


Very soon I know this earth
on I live roll back from its cosmic
pathways to tell me a secret
that the only truth I can hold
in my two hands like a lotus flower
is the one emerges
from clear water ponds
in silent dawns of my temple of Gods
in black stones unique
and the fragrance of flowers pure
from the valley of bamboo flutes
and in one far end country
where oceans freeze in forms of ice
I find to my surprise the ultimate meridian
of earth on poles-imaginary
where countries hoist
flags with no feelings of patriotism
and in my flagpost
I placed my tiny tri colour
in orange fire
to love my country more
in pure spirit of patriotism.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


Someone from a hill like pillar
told me to move out
from my destined pathways
where I stood near my fragment
of earth in elements earthen
and I did not know the meaning
of that claim
as I formed no fences around
my dreamy ocean
or blocked rain drops
to flow on my music notes
And if
someone stung, loved or betrayed
this earth with no knowledge
of my soul
I am not answerable to a hill
like pillar
as I find no necessity
to move away from my fragment
of earth where oceans flow
in pure forms
like in one dream……….

There is a problem I find
in one Indian river which refuse
to accept that its endless reign
was blocked a few miles
by an unknown
ocean from a fragment
of this sub continental earth
on the day it decided to flow
far away from its natural banks
and from there that river floated
on ink drops in place of pure water,
dried and vanished in one summer
from this earth in mystical form 
to re originate
in one strange flow
far far away from the waters

Monday, August 23, 2010


Long ago in one Monsoon
raindrops rolled
on my feather soft dreams
like droplet of pearls
and in one sea shell I heard
the endless music of Sea
Years ago  in one morning of August
I dreamt of one wild forest
where I encountered dreams
poem like
in formless modules
From the very beginning of my origin
I searched for a word
in nectar
to find it emerging from Kshirasagar
In lotus
In one golden bowl
dream like
And I forgot my silence
to words.


All dramas of humans
end in one stage
in climax or in anticlimax
and when I stand and watch
the rhythm in which stages
formed for participants to perform
I wonder for whom this show meant for
Is it designed to show me in specific
or for my earth to reciprocate
And in prestigious flag post
When I find flags not prestigious
I wonder for whom this dramatic show
is it to show me in specific
or to show my ocean how big
a river is
Yes I am going to explode

Until my anger subsides
for all the dramas you staged
around this earth for to swallow
on like a fire ball
Until then watch this earth through
sting fences from behind
as I know you move not
even after I lock away my fences.
pay in liberal terms to ink marks
to publicize money lending
I remember to watch all shows
for your satisfaction
to make you feel that you won
a nomination for best performance.

Sunday, August 22, 2010


Pay for all
In wealth of deceit
for life
to set right honour
and live for ever
in new pages
In ques they wait
On silent currencies
Pay in modes exchange
for new ones
pay to cremate
assassinated souls
Place new cards
turn, twist
and at the end
pay if possible
to buy a second
from life, from funeral pyre
and Pay for editions
styled on diplomatic tags
pretend friendship
as escape routes
And at the end
pay from the wealth
Pay Pay Pay
everything is available
in this country for a price
except pure souls
try not to trade them

that is the only word
come out from this earth
in sane alphabets
and that is the only word
a heart burns on fire
can write
a word on fire
that can evaporate water
in thin air
that fire once subsided
to certain measures
but from the sparks
it turns wild
on dramatic waters
and that is too low
for anyone to stand
and in that place
I see water stagnates
far away from its origin...

My face of truth and its vibrations
are in the hands of Almighty
and I know that is the only safe
locker I can place my heartbeats
May be your one sided ink spots
from my birthplace differ
and that prejudice when speaks
of Jesus Christ I surprise
as that God of Christ never
haunted a human or stung
in ink marks but healed
and If they parade a Christ
for selfish ink marks
it is not my concern
as I trade not my conscience
for a piece of paper of fame
that is known to my Lord
and in that sanctum
my lord understands
for what I fought for
and he holds my truth
like a lotus flower
like a lamp reflects light
and on the prejudice of ink marks
that light reflect not

Saturday, August 21, 2010


There in a second I find not a day
but in a day I find several seconds
like heartbeats
all combined in moulds
like a fire engine wheel
like a wall clock in twelve
captures noon and night
in different formats
where a year brings
three sixty five days
divided on twelve equal hours,
mirror images of light and shadow
and in rain
I fill my heart in pearl like drops
where I find no day or night
but a horizon
illuminates on life like light...

Friday, August 20, 2010



When I have heard the sound
of a stream from the back drops
of my Ocean I thought for a while
what the uproar is all about
in my limited seashore
in an infinite horizon
and to my surprise that river
turned from point to point
on pathways avoiding  rock clusters
and whirs as in escape modes
and when I turned around
from my ocean shores
I find branches of the same
river from unfriendly banks
flowing even now
in my ocean with no righteous protocol
with endless outbursts in hidden format
to cover my ocean in clouds
and I wonder
where can I hide my ocean
from a river's rear view images.....


I feel happy that I did not stand
in that crowded sanctum
waiting for bouquets
of ripened fruits from
heaven’s garden
and there the supreme source
of that heaven knows
from the heart of the matter
that my soul different
not wait in sanctum’s door
disappointed for not receiving
a grain of sand in sea shores
there from the opening doors
of heaven Lord Supreme
anticipate not my soul’s presence
in long ques of heaven’s distribution
but expects me near a chamber
where a reed blends 
soft music
like my heartbeat......

Thursday, August 19, 2010


When was the last time seasons
changed in this earth
for me
 that in one cold life support unit,
in one corridor
on the day year ended
on fragments of cold clouds
and from there
I find no change in any seasons
and that is the only change
on which I stood numb
and from there if any one changed
or seasons changed it surprised me not
as that is the written alphabets
of this world in general
and for more specific
that is what people are formed of
and in one conch shell resonated
Pranav collectively pulled back
all sorrows there a season
again changed from winter
to summer and to monsoon...
From rain drops
I plucked a few notes
to play on my musical instrument.....

Wednesday, August 18, 2010


I wandered
all around near seven seas
and ten horizons
to find where earth
hides its magnetic halo
But in one hill, ink marked
on crushed  trees
shadowed around sunlight
I found an earth
not round but strange
beyond the imaginary visions
of a sky roof to portrait
in frames of gold
from there I walked in battlefields
with no arms or army
but with only a bamboo plank
and at the end I find
a spark
magnetic halo,
circled radiance,
all combined
in one  feather soft dream
poem like…

I was in silence once
In one earthen pitcher
like in one shell
And at that point
A cluster followed me
Like shadows of a giant rain tree
to break
to slice
to chisel
my Silence…
and from the very form of earth
I broke that on a rock
splashing waters
all around
on the same rock of one confluence
once I meditated
and now when I try to collect
those splinters sharp
to place back in silent mode
they refuse to go back
to its origin in style and shape
a kind of refusal
an encounter
I face now with the broken
splinters of silence
Eventually from the same earth
those fragments turned around me as speech
beyond the control of my earthen decanter
in silent modes....

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Love of one past!!!
Let me ask you
Why do you paint present
on ink drop images
of the ones not connected to you
in unknown plateaus
of history journals
and chronicles of life
they rebel not for you
And the only one I connect
in my conscience
stands there very close to my heart
A tiny one
who holds my pure soul
my mirror image
Why not you fight with
that flute of my heart
Why not you distinguish
the very rhythm of my eternal songs..

I can see like the way he looks at you
in clear forms...
and it is certain
when fresh currency notes not refined
whisper in hands and power opens
its taste buds,
from borders a few sneaks
in this earth
 in  alphabets borrowed
from Wanli Changcheng
with no prior orders
and there we find a few wait
in hurry to sit on chairs offered
as if it is the only show case
available in this world
let that show go on
and we, me and my little krishna
watch it as the only joke
right now available for us to watch.....
and you flow like that forever
in alphabets unknown
ten thousand miles and more
away from conscience
that is also fate
fate of a kind.....

Monday, August 16, 2010


Near the thin borders
of past and present
I have seen an earth
Earth not belonged to intruders of
tricolor in orange fire
And in borders I find countries
enveloped on mountain mist
as imposters who relish on snow feast
And near that tricolor flag post
Who stands, who conspires
Not a wind, not a nightingale
Not the magnetic halo of earth
not an ocean...
can you find those hands..
beholders of ego
an element
not in musical form
but in tidal form
whose is that?????

Sunday, August 15, 2010



An expressive word I need
to tell straight
from the topmost point of my sky
not to curtain mind
but to frill the heart on laces
soft but that word no one understands
the one pierces, strong ones
like a chisel on wood
like the sharp point of arrow
that too no one understands
let that be
 face of the fate
and not me there eyes
in multi millions watch day and light,
night and darkness
if you understand those eyes
take a line of caution
at least to climb the pillar
in slow steps
in rhythm unheard….
whisper like

I thought I have reached
one empty sea shore alone
after the whirl waves receded
numb or bewildered ?
orange fire spreads
all around  my tri colour
where horizon takes in hand
my dreams
but in August flowers
I breeze not freedom
but fences
not of thorns but of brain cells
rotate in vicious circles.
In vast sea shores I gaze
at a reflection in horizon 
through the perils of sun set
and I find a mirror image
river like
love and torment in one frame
like tree and its shadow
how can it be
that is life to believe
from pinnacles..
how can one stumble
stumble in that fashion????

Let me tell you
There now you stand
in ten thousand long miles
in length
away from conscience
like in length
near Wanli Changcheng
from Shanhaiguan in the east to Lop Nur
long fortifications built
in seasons
spring and autumn
in stones and earthen soil
as sentinels
to guard intruders
from all around
as emblems emperors imprinted
as crowns
in earthen form in several miles
in specific; name it as Qin Shi Huang
to enlighten history books
of an era before Christ.
It began
all around in boundaries
like fences of the world

Saturday, August 14, 2010


Years ago
in one era  fragranced on chandan
I have seen earth
like one orange form
in your tiny mouth
rotating like in its orbit
and when I hear your flute
from the valleys
in an era where islands
form fences around
I know where my songs
are hidden
and in my mist filled dawns
I waited for raindrops
from the divides of sky
like in monsoon….

Yes, today I have heard
from my heart a song
a song of a nightingale
which I longed for in monsoon
and in my featherlike mystic dawns
earth arrived near horizon
holding a bright brass lamp
in orange fire
and in my dreams
words draped me
near one ocean shore
poem like…
while rain drops played
on the strings of my Veena

Thursday, August 12, 2010


I have seen a sea
known to all from its very roar
to the unknown wild
both were silent in dawns
and from there changed
its forms known to unknown
From cloudburst floods
to one stream
I have seen nature
Known and unknown
in me and in others
In pendulums I have heard
tick sound of seconds
in needles from one known zone
to unknown
even in front of my sea
I see now no waves
but only a soft breeze
and a few clouds
in unknown forms….

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Is there a cave
in that highest mountain
to hide away all your errors
from heaven’s progress charts
Is there a cloud you find
Near horizon to hide your inkmarks
far far away from a sea wind
And can you tell me a place
In which a silence hides its alphabets of truth
in strange translators
and blocks speech to open up

Let me think
of the listless forms appear from planets
Unknown in invisible drapes
And I find now all answers
in Sirium Myrtifolium
from that sanctum, very close
to my heartbeats like in one flute

Tuesday, August 10, 2010


Let me tell you
I have stopped that one too
From today
I watched him- Paper boy
an astonished soul
for sure I  need not see them again
-exclusives in front lines
-tweets biased in 180 degrees
-buttered loafs
-paid news surfs
-promotional campaigns
I stopped that one too
In express speed
Otherwise too it was  a practice
not a habit
From today
I am free of that ink too
And happy..... you laugh
I am not crazy like you..
to pay donations to chemical sheets
to place my flute for  a sale

My priced possession
My bamboo flute is not for sale....

You remind me of Camilla
The one who chased an earthen
Princess from this universe
Through the tunnels of life
Yes you are like Camilla
Not the princess but only Duchess
And that princess was the one
People loved
People, I want to underline
Not  paparazzi
You resemble too Camilla
Not the natural one
And people of this world
Loved that Princess
Even when you tied around
the neck of that prince…

Monday, August 9, 2010


from the sophisticated
trial rooms of life
to my surprise I find
minds, brain graph maps
decorated on love capsules
not pure
but like in a designer stage
oval shaped
for players to enact
emotionless emotions
and when that past reminds
me like a mountain
flagpost of  present
and forces me to go
back to my ocean's seashore
in intermissions
how can I stop halfway
to my destination
to the ultimate orange earth
of my dreams….

Sunday, August 8, 2010


There an image
as reflection of my mind I see
not submissive
to the streams which flow
reverse in negatives
My vision not a stream
but the roar of an ocean
and I was into it
from my birth
but withstood waves unforeseen
and souls traverse oceans
need no platform
for promotion
as the universe spreads across
for them in horizon
in orange fire
to the infinite end….