Where  did you go  hiding  --you    SKIES?

Where  did you  go  hiding –you  azure skies?

I tried  to unfold  you  from  where  I    am positioned

 That  was my  custom when   I was young,

Even  now  attempted  this  childish   impossible play;

Did  you  go to  embrace  those  that

reached   you  abandoning  this   politics

of   muddy  earth? Did  you  beckon  those

myriad   stars   to  follow  to  be   a  fanfare?

Those   fluffy    clouds invade  not only  us,

But  also  heavens, I  suppose:

Where   did  you  go  hiding –you  azure  SKIES?

In the blazing Fire

In  the   blazing   Fire....

In  the  blazing  fire  there,

Sulking  many  aboriginal   habits ,

Roots  of  unshakable   faith,  rituals

With  glowing  embers, 

Much  to  the  censure   and

Berating   tags    of  many:

In   a  different  sort of  fire,

I see  a  few , reformed,  burn

Their   ugly sinister, restless thoughts,

Slowly  the  fire  recedes into  a

Cave  of  negation  and cessation,

Itself  engulfs   the  wicked ness.

There is  this mysterious  fire

In  many,  lurking  and virile,

beyond   embalm   and   redemption,

audaciously   poking:  a  hawk               

restive  in  its    pursuit ,

soon  to  be  subdued  by  a  different  Fire.

                                                             

I walk with my soul

I walk  with my  soul.

  I  walk  with  my  Soul

  tiptoed  like  a  sepoy  

  converse  with  liberty

  measuring   an immeasurable

 vast  distance   and   vista,

 but my  companion , guide

more  alert  reads  my past

births  : a  karmic   dictum,

 births  and deaths  like   gyrating

waves ,endless  singing  a  rhythm,     

drops  me by  a   tree, 

   my  soul  envisages  me

to  be   shady  plant :         

in   a  metamorphic   mode

I am lying   a  seed.

Danger you were swallowing

Danger  you  were   swallowing.

Jasmines in  tinned box,

Fragrance    bottled up,

You  are  mauled    up in  a

Saturation  point    miserably

Don’t  know  if  saturation

and  staring  point 

 like  a tiger in a  nullah,

Staggering   and  staring  at you,

How  entwined in   a  messy ,

Pretentiously    confounding  mass,

You  are in   a dangerous world

abysmally  crude  and gruesome,

Unaware    of the whips  and  slashes,

Cucumber sandwiches

 go   stale  and dry.                                                             

While    you     contemplate  the

 overflowing meaningless  activity ,

life  in   a  break less   encryption.                                

                                                                            

Faith

Faith

  The   Cool  Moon  shines  impartial,

  The    shy  paramours  on her   curvature

   Scantily   bother   about  me,

  Why  must  they,  it is my predicament,

 The  boat is sinking,  the   surfed ,angry

Tidal   waves  usurped  my  boat,

 I am slowly  sinking,  it   is   submerged,

But   not   my  Faith,                                                           

I  send    SOS   to  my   Mentor, looking

 Upwards, looking  at  the   elusive    clouds

Playing    active  hide  and   seek ,

 Suddenly   a     feel , the  noose  is

Tightening  my  neck,  I fall  unconscious,

 A  gentle  touch   by  my  Shore,

I  inhale  The  Breath   of   Faith.

His Chair

   His   Chair

Fine   agile   and    old timers,                

of     generations  have  monopolised,

enjoyed    newspapers   and  thread  spinning,

yarn   weaving on the  rocking  chair, the

chair   was more privileged ,            

the  Time   has  set  His  imprints

on   the    sturdy  visage   

the   Mahogany    slowly  lost  glamour,

yet, my grandfather , most  recent  occupier,

the  playful  kitten, the green parrot and

squirrel    and white  spongy puppy

took  turns on the  household  emblem

of  the  family   pride, yonder

on the  polished  mirror, I see its

reflection  rocking .

Some seeds by me

 Some  seeds  by  me.

  These   supple  ,dainty    oranges

fill   my   shopping   baskets,overflow ;

 the  seeds in the kitchen melamine

sieved , crave for  a  safe  ,fertile   soil,

till  the  morn they  were  in a   cove,

until   the  knife   cut ,  merciless

juiced  in  a    jar  to  appease  her tongue,

all  in  one  hasty  gulp  by the  maid,

They  are Not poisonous  seeds of 

ambitious , dry hearts, arid    garden,

 I   hope to  nurture  seeds ,

   them In my  garden of   sanctity.  

  

Nature's Stand, forgiving...( Haiku).

Nature’s    Stand,   forgiving...    (Haiku)

  Grass  and  grass hopper

We  trample  upon  them  crude,

They dance ,serenade.

Learning Gambols( Haiku).

Learning  Gambols----(     Haiku.)

    Abacus  classic,

    engineer learning gambol,

    

    lethargy let down.

This nothing leads where?

This   nothing  leads   where?

Sit   and brood  like   an   actor

doing   the  rehearsal  for  the next  show,

a  show  of   tyrants  conquering  lands,

you  don the  role of  beheaded  warrior,

can   imagine  going to be beheaded?

soldiers  falling  like pea-nuts:

 vexation  of  the tormented soul ,

ruminating  myriad  instances of

brutal    injustice   and   utter  calumny,

total    devastation  , faced  beheads

as  breathing   amidst    breathless   trauma;

The  huge  rocky  stone   shapeless

Mocks  at  me, waves    splashing   to  and   fro,

dilute    the   stone  gradual , I tumble,

you  are the  dead  whale,

cast  ashore, flat, the

naughty   ’ nothing’  has shaped .

What is leisure for you?

What  is  leisure for you?

 Yonder, I see  a rope   torn  and  twisted,

That   is  leisure for me,

 Leisure  is  the  hour of  exhaustion,

You lay like  a  deadwood

After  the  day’s  full  fulcrum of  commitment

Of  domestic   chores, you  are  the  dumb  ox,

Laden with the  burden  , the  yoke   tightening

Heavy  on  you, moving on still , a  mechanical  nod,

Or   can  we  say you  are   an exhausted  whale,

Marooned  on the land   waiting  to  be  removed,

Leisure  is for   those  whose  coffers  are full.

Whose  unthinking  or  perverted thoughts

Either  grin  or  to  the  brim.

Satan's Doing

       Satan’s  doing

 The   nutty   dried  yellow  grass

Still   hangs  around  on the  Earth,

holding  her   last breadth , she is like

a    Nonagenarian   now , craves  to  enrobe

Greenery  of the  copious Fields,

 There , the  dainty  locust is  active

Malicious   and  subtle

On the   dancing bunch  of  the  grass,

Green  and supple,

Cuts   and clips, mischievous Satan                                                     

Slow ly   emits    violent  orgy ;

The   distorted  cut  leaves are

Like  a  marooned  island :

Satan    is   enthralled  waiting

To   have  a  shift.

Nature's Care---Human's Cruelty

 Nature’s  Care  ----Human’s  Cruelty.

He  races  on  a  bicycle of rugged  wheels,

A  worn out  junk  to be assembled in parts

almost to be thrown out on streets,

yet  he  treasured it  for his  daily  sustenance,

He  races, peddles  to his  office  with  a   wife

Works   as   a  midwife  and  a   two  year old  child;

As     an    avid  writer       records  on his paper,

To  be  time-bound but  willed   for  different  fort;

It is   a  rugged   road  of  stones   and speed  -breakers,

dug up  holes  and   drainage ill –maintained,

vegetable     vendors   and   corporation  lorries

criss—crossing, chased  by   a  chin  snatcher, 

hits   the  victim   with   a  knife, the  woman’s  squeals,

the  rider  loses   balance, the presence of mind

of  the  midwife works  faster  than  the  culprit,

quickly  throws  the   innocent  on the road,

as  far  as away as the  stretch    of  the  culprit.

The  cruel   hands  of  fate   are  defeated, deterred,

The   asylum  is  granted,  the child  is  shifted  by  force,

by  the  basket of  the  vegetable.

The   vendor’s  long   unfulfilled   dream comes   true,

When the  lap  had  to  fail, the leaved  greenery  protected!

Haiku ( section 2)

Haiku  (  section 2)

1)  My    garden   carrots

Feed   my  family  daily,

A   fecund feed-back.

2)  Orange kerchief, your  gift,

A  mover,   a   mentor;-------me,

A    nonentity.

3) Snakes couple ,dandle,

Rustle me not in the field,

The leaves rustle.                          

The Love Of Lifetime.

  The  Love of  a  Lifetime

The  Love of  a life time

Is   the rarest of the rarities,

like  a  Boon  of  God,

Unsurpassed  , like  the

Third   Eye, stretching  far

Beyond   the   boundaries,

Visualising  and integrating

The  Timeless   and  universalised 

Sacred  and  sacrificial  

That   relentless    urge  to 

Merge with the One,

 Precious  like  a  Diamond,

Love of  a life time 

Is   inarticulate.

Sleep

                                      Sleep

If  you  sleep over  the 

Slumbering holocaust 

Booming   sudden   like

a   crashing  fall    of

aircraft, you  sleep  forever

in   the  den of  ignoramus

goofing  of   enormous 

 cavity  and  growing

declivity    and   nullifying  

aridity. Don’t  sleep  over  the

loss   and  amiss,

gain   the  vital  consciousness

of  wakeup  and  thunderous

 awakening. Only  reasoning is

struggle   hard  and   resurrect.

 I see  the  barn   slowly

gets   reinvested. 

Go to Himalayas.

    Go to Himalayas!

 Come  out  of  your  mushroom  growth of

dazzling  apartments, those  apartments

that   proliferate  through the entire stretch

of the   busy trafficked   roads,

 walk  through  the  seepage

water-logged  streets, stench  pierces,

cover    your   nose  ,clear  the  buffer

of  grills   raised  for  men  at work,

water-logged  streets,

do  you  look  for  the  postman 

for   the letter  of  a sinecure,

for your  age is  such,

but  your  will  is  all the  more agog,

segregate   your  disappointment,

set off  to  Himalayas, trekking 

through  the  thistles  and thimbles

that prick  your  sole  of  the feet,

blisters    and wounds  less  inimical

than    words  of  human  tricksters ;

crush  the  leaves of the Messages 

of  wisdom   and clairvoyance

of   Sages  and   visionary    Seers ,

drink  the    vial of  Times’ Bliss  and  Beatitude

Uprooted grass

Uprooted  grass

A few   hours ago the cute  grass bunch

Silently    weeps for  the loss,

Loss  of  its  innocence,

A  butterfly  has its moorings on it,

its  freshness, its  dew   glanced,

Innocent  looks  upfront,

I mercilessly trampled upon it

during my inadvertent   walk  :

after  all  the  grass  with its

ancestral  lineage, its   peerless  smell,

sooner,  nods   elegantly  around the  soil,

It  does not   have  a  mouth   to  cry, for

no  hurt   or  crushed  pain  emitting  thereon,

no  rocky  stones, no  tornado

could  whiz past  the  earthy  queen,

on   my  return  from   gravel  path,

a  gardener’s  sickle   swaps,

crude   ‘ unkindest  cut’, grass

Looks   as  if  flamboyantly

Relieved from the  mud  cuddled   posture.

What is for these thugs?

          What  is  for  these  thugs?

You   sail  westward  of  your   delectable

Notations and  wide choice,

Twin  sisters  crude  hypocrisy  and

Deceit  in  full  fulcrum,  spiralling

everywhere  around the  visibility,

They  execute   in  invincible   way,

Inconceivable    clouts they  are;

 yet you Determinately

  abrogate  those deadly  Sinners:

daily  sinister s  they   become

like   tsunami   tidal  waves

sudden   and  swallowing,

we  are  like, caught  in the

elevators, waiting  for the

restoration of  power, a   somewhat

prolonged   wait, a swift jerk,

a  movement, hoping   similar

swop   would  denigrade  the thugs.