Friday, August 31, 2012

IMAGES


HEARTBEATS

I understand… 
I understand even the mistaken
 alphabets of events
from the very beginning 
to its very end.. 
I know the punctuations, 
I know what happened
and I know how events turned 
and many such things
but i  never tried first the way
you tried to persecute
You tried even to barter my heartbeats,
soul in open great walls.. 
True, I have raised my voice 
to block you otherwise 
I knew you would have  stamped
even my innermost soul
on your bloated paper thin ego...
Soles  float and colours flow
when greed  treads beautifully 
ahead of Goodness 
and I know God witnessed 
not your success
but failure 
as a human element..

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

SEASON
 
 
 

I need to tune my Veena
for that i need to walk back
to my origin, to the foundation
of my pure self
where in the distorted soil
of seashores
i need to build again
a place from foundation stone
ahead of concrete pillars,
ahead of faceless clouds,
to set aside the tunes lost,
strings broken and not again
i need to walk back to find
a season that i know
from where my music comes
from in Monsoon
 

Tuesday, August 14, 2012


FLAG OF FREEDOM



 

I broke the Saint Gobain
glass box to free my ocean
It wasn't easy a task
for words to speak
against the heart
of a concreted silence
where near i found
my tricolour half-mast
It wasn't to mourn a death
but pulled back;
pulled back  by uneven
shadows
and I broke the Saint Gobain glass box
to free my soul, my heartbeats,
my earth, my flag in orange, white
and green..

Thursday, August 9, 2012


EARTH

I have not lost the last heartbeat
of my life which i thought
would end in one glass bowl
where in the echo cardiogram
heartbeats stopped for a while
to find the ultimate truth
of one season;
to know, to understand
how clouds graze beneath
the sky in search of oceans
and even at times in search
of life beyond earth's destinations
and when Morpheus fell
near Cape Canaveral
i searched not for a satellite lens
to know how beautiful
a place i got on this earth
to dream big...

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

 IMAGES
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I have seen time wheels
from the bell tower
of a far forgone era
where silent egos nested
to place its ultimate
footsteps...
Along with the dawn ink marks
made there a kingdom
not for goodness
but for retribution
and time showed me through
the shadows of a Gulmohar
that it can stand anywhere
away from the podium of truth
and in war fields
I have seen their machine needles picking
banquet grains for breakfast diaries…
goodness???
I have learned from the sky roof of my
garden in one monsoon that an ocean
is not formed of ink marks
but of poetic raindrops…

Monday, August 6, 2012

COLOURS










In Pistacia lentiscus
in liquefiable, mastic forms
paint spreads all around
oh i know you want a new paint

to fill my sorrows in day light

Colours; i really
wonder why even at this age
you squeeze the same bottle
and binders in polyurethanes,
polyesters, melamine resins,
and epoxy again and again


Granted....
blend it liberally 

and let me see the shrunken world
of paint crystals to leave
a  discounted belief
that i am heartbroken
in new shades and diluted fillers...
  IMAGES
 

 
 
 
 
 
From Pico da Neblina
he wrote in Caesalpinia echinata
not an epic but a frivolous allegory
in exchange of a few Reais
to humiliate earth, its origin
and God watched him
and his bible speeches
where in subcontinent
heartbeats stood apart
in ocean shores
to tell him and his colloquium
that we blend raindrops
not Caesalpinia echinata
in our seashores..
and now we know how
olive leaves dry
in ink marks
where egos hire
actors for their
insincere launch missions..
IMAGES
 
 
 
 
 
 
from time to time
from season to seasons
from seashore to seashore
may be this is the moment
i was waiting for
to get the last drop of monsoon
to wash across my vision
to find the truth in its own
merit.
That is the way i see raindrops
in dreams and in oceans
and may be this is the moment
i waited for in years
to see how hypocritical
a world can be
in cloisters..
IMAGES

 
 
 

When i hear a different
song i know it is time for me
to wait for a monsoon
From the gift box of seasons
i filtered sorrow 
and in dawns i nested 
my dreams on a poem like seashell.

When i hear a different song

i know how i found my untrue friends
in river shores, in banyan branches
in masks, in shadows, in clouds
and i never thought even in my dreams
that you were in that cluster
and that indeed an error
my heartbeats learned

to breath with.....
IMAGES

It wasn't a mistake
but at the end you taught me
through ink marks, symbols
and supercilious writers
that there always exists a classic mode
on which we can fill
hatred like a narrow river 

and you know it wasn't a mistake
there on the boardrooms
none discussed about broken
heart streams
or about forgone seasons
and against all invasions
what is that you expect from me
for enforcing hatred
Amnesty???????
  IMAGES
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
From Pico da Neblina
he wrote in Caesalpinia echinata
not an epic but a frivolous allegory
in exchange of a few Reais
to humiliate earth, its origin
and God watched him
and his bible speeches
where in subcontinent
heartbeats stood apart
in ocean shores
to tell him and his colloquium
that we blend raindrops
not Caesalpinia echinata
in our seashores..
and now we know how
olive leaves dry
in ink marks
where egos hire
actors for their
insincere launch missions..

Sunday, August 5, 2012

IMAGES...

 


 

 



How can i think artificial
oh! that is so sweet a world
of fiction not real
where love floats on breaths
we inhale
Honey, oh when was it
i remember that i wrote
a love letter for rain drops,
for freshness of green
in thousand faces
you know
that was long ago
and many springs shed
their flowers on dried love
That is past indeed
and i stood there as a witness
where on the sand field
i watched with no honey sweet word
when your face fell
against black shadows
with no fragrance of love...

Wednesday, August 1, 2012


SEA SHELL

 
 






I find not any happiness
in invading elements
as i fill not my dreams
in black shadows
while in narrow borders
continents write their
limited wisdom
i take back my ocean
to its sub continental
promontory
and in monsoon rain drops
i find not any mountain shadows
as my earthen dreams have traveled
from one terrain
to one poetic sea shell....