IMAGES
(Rema Prasanna Pisharody)
It wasn't me but shadows
experimented on my heartbeats..
In ancient memories
my thoughts were too gentle
and kind ..
That was before you invaded
my origin, my earth
to teach me about the impure wisdom
of the wild..
It is true, i wasn't
familiar with the show case
gentleness of painted gadgets
and the barter system of kindness.
In seasons
and in not so remarkable
advantage points
in front of me faces moved
with no traces of gentleness
but with the final settlement chart
of impure wisdom..
It is not me experimented
with human heartbeats
but faceless shadows
and chemical hues..
I turned arrogant to block
shadows from invading
my earthen conscience
And i know
before you invaded my nation,
in ancient memories
i was gentle and kind
genuinely....
IMAGES
It wasn't me but shadows
experimented on my heartbeats..
In ancient memories
my thoughts were too gentle
and kind ..
That was much before
you invaded my origin, my earth
to teach me about the impure wisdom
of the wild..
It is true that i wasn't
familiar with the show case
gentleness of painted gadgets..
In seasons
and in not so remarkable
advantage points
in front of me faces moved
with no traces of gentleness
but there i found the final
paints of impure wisdom..
It is not me experimented
with human heartbeats
but faceless shadows
and i turned arrogant to block
them from invading
my earthen conscience....
IMAGES
Images are precious
not for one season but for all...
it is not that one needs to add brightness
of bias to pride a superficial belief
Impressed; not my earthen lamps,
in forgone seasons i filled my heartbeats
for that more than
the tears i shed inside me
it is not because i ran short
of a second but believed
images are precious
and brightness of prejudice
is not earthen..
it is not my fault if a season
decided to fight near my border line
to disapprove my earthen beliefs...
IMAGES
Images i measure not in scales
or in seconds or in captions..
In pavilions i sit not now
to know the faces wrappers
of a downhill's signature ink mark
It is ancient a memory
that many monsoons ago
i withstood expletives
of a nation called silence...
In Shields i cover my conscience
tears i hold back
In nature's souvenirs i write
Flowers of monsoon i drape
From childhood dreams
to the replacement platforms,
face wrappers refused to accept
that there was a shadow in between
the banyan trees and my autumn
IMAGES
I followed a footstep and fainted
against a faceless shadow
Seasons changed like eras
when i opened my eyes
In my school library
i searched for an epic
and to my surprise i found
that most epics are consortium
of battles..
I followed a footstep
and climbed up
to the sky where stars
wrote poetry like the sparkle
of an earthen lamp...
Away from the concrete pillars,
away from the mysteries
of premonitions
i walked along the coasts
of Indian Ocean in search
of my own origin...
I followed an unknown footprint
and collided on a mountain shadow
and there near the plateau of emptiness
i found my own unknown
poetic footsteps..
HIS STORIES
History not very fascinating
in royal enclosures as it covers
past and truths alive in burial grounds...
Buried coffins are brought up
from centuries to enlighten
me about the blindness
of royal kingdoms..
I left my history book in library
as it burdened my soul
in silent blood sheds..
In my dreams shadows collided
and arrows pierced my heartbeats
I think i find more peace in poetry
than in his stories...
ootprints....
IMAGES
I hear that 9 Baloch
from the neighboring borders
invaded my tri colour
through the barbed lines
of control...
Silence.............
will you listen for a while..
In mountain springs
you toppled our flag
and enemies sensed it
There is bloodshed
and i know you finish off
even a nation to implant
your ego on the top hill..
I hear that 9 Baloch from
the neighboring borders invaded
my tri colour and let me
shed a tear for the bravehearts
who lost their heartbeats
for you to do spring revolutions
to implant your ego
on the flag hoisting fort...
IMAGES
It is true i was waiting for monsoon
when a mountain planted its shadows
near my earthen boundaries
Through the windows i was watching
the star sparklers when a moon
conspired behind my earthen lamp posts
In my awakening dream
i found the mystery of truth
like the emblem of Kalinga
in my tricolour...
Envious moon spread its
darkness across the alphabets
of life and there nothing
left except a danger sign in red
in provocative philosophy..
It was easy for me to listen
my conscience when dreams
stopped finding elements of sorrow
from shadows
and turned towards my origin
my love, my poetic east coast
horizon.....
