Thursday, November 26, 2009

That day in Central London------

That day in Central London......
That day, that moment relives
in memory, after all memory
lasting longer than life,
life after life!
lobby is luxury,
for living is expensive,
it is a single room
accommodation, central heating
reduces my shiver, biting cold,

I peep through the window
The vortex of planes
gyrating like creation and
procreation in God’s cosmography.
What a moment, mind enthralled,
Tabula rasa I enjoyed.
I fly back my my flights,
Those light mechanisms
carry your heavy sentiments too,
Aritha van Herk cosy on your
lap top, privileged , Ellesmere smiles.

English language glows, glitters,
England’s pride, Shakespeare’s tool,
The window of the world, brightens,
the pages of Ellesmere fritter
aimlessly for the sudden gush
Of wind blowing,
yet, the book inside is
blooming, blooming like
Anna in the chiselled hands
of Aritha. The Avatar inside
me is propelling like the
planes, ‘work is worship’ ,
what does it matter for the
crow by the window,
if it is tabula rasa or
your laden heart,
your life is yours,
the crow pecks on.

Monday, November 23, 2009

You think amidst thoughtless a few

You think amidst thoughtless a few

When your spirits are too low,
as low as the choked voice,
compunction and distraught
in the boggling mind,
you walk on the shores ,
rhythm and rigmarole
gyrate with the waves,
You count the majestic ships ;
Blue, Deep, how sail amidst
turbulence, flagged off,
sequestered, you sit in a corner
slipping the sands,
you cant afford to slip
the precious Time:
You look up at the sky,
Starry night your
lone companion ,
for the exodus is visible.
also inevitable ever.
unaccountable stars twinkling
Perhaps the dead also merge there,
where are those dead?
The departed souls
are not far off.
Those are encircling
in and around your vicinity.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

My dark horse runs --

My dark horse runs-----
I drew a picture of a dark horse
in a white paper of oblong size,
as white and pure as a newborn ,
The peeling skin peels further,
imagination ran out of my mind
like a warrior in the battle field
who bade his lost kiss and adieu
to his ever faithful mistress,
the braving on the dark horse,
left his warm hearth
not to return again ,yet
to leave an imprint on
the soil benign, blood oozing ,
sacrificial fire still rages
in his breath and vow ,
the dark horse runs, runs.
The paper fritters on the breeze.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

A view when I close my eyes

Yesterday it was a huge elephant
lifting its Proboscis as if to bless me
when I was depressed,
the trunk was bedecked with jewels
rich silken robes , majestic in look.
Memory assumes to redeem
A bygone day.
Today it is a caged parrot
not longing for flight :
It pours the panjandrums
of the officious, official,
ordinary too is not spared.
Those free and freed, what
have they got and fraught
nothing but danger,
my changing envisioned object
before me stratifies many things.
I think, rethink, delve,
What it appears to be
Is not a dysfunctional,
Nor a crab,
It is a feeling from
a clogged one.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

In the middle rung of the ladder

In the middle rung of the ladder.

I am in the middle rung of the ladder,
skyward ruminations amidst fear,
for the ladder is shaken by the battening
wind. Below, I see mounds and murk ,
Gossamer like cobweb runs from
Somewhere inside the window of
a house ageless .The bricks and lime
are falling. The unconscious nonagenarian
on the cot , equally counting its days,
“ give me a hand “ I beseech the
Sturdy branch of a banyan tree,
Banyan rehearses a past history .
I climb down only to view
the anthills on the platform.