Saturday, May 25, 2013

It s not the coward alone that dies...


I t  is  not  the   coward   alone  .....

I t is  not   the coward  alone   that 
Dies   a    hundred  Deaths     a  day,
It  is   the  CONSCIOUS    that  dies
All  the  more    thousand   deaths  
a   day  pining   and pining  
with  a   Question, but  for  His
unbounded   Mercy,
where would  We   be?

Turn  to  a  quick, supple   mode,
You    switch on  to  a
Spectrum  of   fish   in 
Colourful  aquarium
To   a   fish Cart drive.

Yet, this  God  ordained
Life  has  to   go  on
Amidst     this    clamouring
For   naught    and   ultimate
Destiny of  ashes!                                                

You  look  up  the Heavens,
The   Majestic   stretch of
Mountains,  the  rocky  coves,
The popped  up plants 
Hither  and thither,
May be survival  instinct
For them too,

Where from    this  in surge of
Battalions, this   intruding
Cockroaches   amidst  the
Killer    instinct  hit   box?

Yet,  these    are   undoubtedly
Beyond  this    Conscious  mode
For vested with  a
Different  Source of  tether
Different   soul. 

Saturday, May 18, 2013

A SHADOW


A   shadow

Your   half  close  open  eye lids   
View   a   shadow,    just  moving ,
Could  be  a  strong  feeling  too,
 A redesign    genetically cast,
from   its    closed    existence:
it   moves , waves ,releasing
all   its   anger, or   frustration,
happiness   and    failure;
it is  all   from your  reflection
or   seeing   in its  place;
only  it  is  devoid  of  features
it  comes  back  to  life,
yet it is  a  shadow,
foreshadowing  some
  significant  aspects  .

Wednesday, May 08, 2013

The predominance of karma



In    a   mood   of    vexation 
  and    adamant   questioning,
I   burn     the      effigy    of    Karma
Cast  it   to   embers:
Some time  ago    it   was   a   coil  of    Rope
I   imagined  that
  I crossed  on the  road,
Yesterday  it   was   a   serpent,
I feared   it   and  brushed
  it   Far   aside,
Now   from   the  burning  embers,
A  gathered   but  not   garnished 
Shape   voices  :   ‘’  I am   the
All pervading   universe,
Sustains    the    Shrusti.   


 

What those pictures sand for?



Those   pictures   hanging   on the  wall,
long  lost  from   the  exuberant   Breath
when  alive   and  those  living   now,
 those    pictures   in   your  heart,
  for   Memory  binds  them  stronger
to  you ,not   allowing   a   crevice,
you   crave  for  those  memories,
moments  of   sad  music    still
ringing   in you, they   gently  tapping
to   the  tunes. Tears   are    ultimate
rewinding   episodes.
In   a  way, pictures   are  impasse,
Also   tales  of  flow.   

Saturday, May 04, 2013

Resurrection


Resurrection

Though    clipped  wings  they  are,
They  nudge    along   upwards
the   tawny  stemmed  tree  that
 almost  shed  its  leaves,
 the   bright   sky    looking   Askance 
at  the   mystery  of
 the   yesteryears Bonanza:
the   insect   on the 
fallen  , half withered  leave
floats  on the   sailing   comrade
hopefully   surrendering  its 
destiny  the  way  it  is 
steered  through;
you   stare   at  the   substandard
sand   and    brick   crumbling
along   the   storied    building,
Resurrection   is    misnomer  here.