Verses Etched In Sky
Monday, July 4, 2011
Tears Beyond A Poem's Ken
All that I see
I am able to bind in verse
On a tapering rail road
A solitary shoe
From the clouds
The slow descent of sparrows
The eyes of an infant
Just awoken
Upon the burnished earth of youth
The shadows of rebellion
As white doves prepare to gather
The indo-pak border
Turning into a murder of ravens
Dreams that dissolve
At the touch of dawn
Upon the shores of the night
The cockle shells of truth
I don’t know why
But that moment of separation
Sits weeping by the steps
At the doors to the temple
Of my poesy
Poet's Mystery
With eyes brimming
With the mysteries
Of jungles old
He roams
In the vast expanse within
Above a river that reflects empty skies
He tosses the shadow
Of a bird in flight
And watches it float away
In every solitary path
You may meet lonesome flowers
Scattered beside his footprints
Across fences, beyond boundaries
His window overlooks an infinite freeway
Through this window
He searches for wonders
And so finding them, is lost in them
And so his time passes
He exists
Aware of every second, singly
Above its rails life travels
And below it death glides incessantly
This he believes, and yet
He can distill moments that bind them both
And are free from either
To fill the recesses of his heart
With peace
He holds dearly
To sorrows past
Through ineffable visions of darkness
He shoots shards of blinding light
And brings to life
Visions of his own
With naught but solitude as sentinel
He assimilates all life within himself
As the child floats
A paper boat
The poet
Floats heaven
In world's puddle
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Happenstance
The river may owe its amblings
Of the night
To the leisure strokes
Of lunar plumes
Elated by the rustle of
Long dead leaves;
(To this imagined applause)
The koels may owe their song
To the bashful flight of clouds sans reach
The mountains may owe
Heightened majesty
To the breeze that plucks the dew
And drops it to the ground
The ants may owe
The thrill of the march
The graveyard may owe its
Deepened silences
To the wisdom of spent pyres
To its terrene love for the stars
The earth may owe
The ebb and flow
Of endless waves of grass
To thy visions
My poesy may owe
Its existence
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Solitude
I squeeze life
And let moments trickle
As a swirl of emotions gently set
And I watch my story unfold
And earn my solitude
To draw into me
A solitary star
To dissolve within my eyes
A drunken breeze
In the silent light that
Transpires all around me…
As truth bubbles forth – silence
Runs unceasing
Random silhouettes
Rise as paintings
And melt away in a moment or two
Random queries, forgotten, old,
Having lost their answers,
Return
Donning the mask of freedom
The heart frightens
Delight and despair
At the cusp of solitude
The soul speaks an infant’s tongue
At the end of each solitude
The spice of a solitary leaf
Of the wisdom tree
Wafts inescapably
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Beyond Poesy
I stand at the hairline of a hill
I almost touch the sky
I cannot fly, birdlike
I dwell in the midst of branches
And watch through the mosaic
I cannot flower
I stoop to pick up my pen
Unbeknownst to all, I crawl around
I cannot wonder, childlike
Upon grassy knolls I sit
Carefully, upon the grass
I cannot kiss, dew-like
What binds…
What it is to let go…
I understand, slowly
And glow within
I cannot shine, sun-like
In the sporadic interludes of an epoch’s slipstream
I perceive the human birth come full-circle
I cannot become whole, moon-like
To those who wished to fell me
I wish wellbeing
I would blossom amid
Those who would see me buried
I cannot reign graceful, God-like
Neither can you
And hence the world…
Must show fealty
To innumerable verses