Waking Up

it's difficult 

to wake up from a dream

the sudden realisation that 

it was just a dream

is maddening

dreams are no more dreams

as often I watch over myself 

while dreaming 

it's disheartening 

it's not another world

where you are happy, sad

bickering, pathetic, miserable

it's here and now

so frustrating

what you thought was attainable

is perhaps a figment of your

imagination....no more reachable 

because it's not a dream any longer

it's here and now here and now 

don't scream out of anger

or disappointment 

it's your late realisation 

that you forgot to figure out

it's no more a dream

the world knew and therefore 

it never stopped moving away

taking a course different 

you stagnated because 

you thought it was just a dream

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

My Neighbour

Sharp 12.00 PM

Afternoon 

She is there

Nosing around 

Poking, peeping,

Irritating ... 

Curious as ever 

"Too much of curiosity is not good"

Like water falling on stone

It has no effect on her

"What you reading?"

She asks, her eyes sharp, shrewd

Brows puckered in an ugly frown

"A book...a novel.."

"What about?"

"About a married girl being blackmailed about her past..."

She snorted...

"As usual, old story..."

"It's interesting ", I said

" Must be,"She smirked,

" Everybody is interested in other's business,"

I look at her pointedly 

She shrugs 

"Why don't they write about the futility of everything.... conquests and bloodbaths...

we are making history they say.....all rubbish "

"Yes, all rubbish! That is why it's not written about"

She puts her head down almost kissing her chest

"All rubbish! All rubbish!" She suddenly shrieks,

A cackle of laughter follows

Cacophonous....

I object but by then she is gone 

At 12.00 PM

Every afternoon 

She comes uninvited 

Sitting on the leafy branch

Of my Chameli tree

Surveys the world around knowledgeably 

Makes a few caustic comments about humans and their follies

Flies away spreading her wings wide

Perhaps

To peep in some other windows 

And collect the leftovers of

Gossips and whispers 

Of mellowed pain 

I don't hide my feelings 

She can't care less

Yet, if she is late 

I look at the clock

And check the time

Is it not 12.00 PM ?

How come she is not here

My neighbour 

Infallible Mrs Crow...

 Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

The Visitors

I watch all day long

Crows and squirrels

Prancing up and down

The Champa* tree

I wish I could grow lighter feet

To cuddle the clouds

Touch the top of the trees

Flap wings across the sky

The visitors to my garden

Teach me to aspire

Beyond the limits of

My earthy skills and

Narrow domain of

Mundane worries

And cheap, unexciting thrills

Champa :Magnolia Champaka or Champak Tree

Shared with  Poets and Storytellers United 

Mother And Child

I have nurtured hatred
unendingly so................
bags full of trash
valueless to the world
priceless to me
as all other worthless thoughts
churned and cherished
within the fragile membranes
                  of a puerile mind
now appear to have lost their shine
in the blinding glitter
of mushrooming malls

I have parented dreams
wailing in the womb
of silenced nights
throttled sobs
and muffled cries

I have sung lullabies
to sooth them to sleep
and woken them up
at the wrong time
fed them what
money could not buy
nourished them well
so that they  not die
an untimely death
schooled them to believe
they have been immortalized

Yes, I have mothered dreams
but never a child...

The Battle Mates

From Google

I am no saint when it comes to virtues

My vices kill me on every breath

As well as those who dare to reform

My unhinged soul , my wayward will

Yet in moments of deep reverie

I feel a Oneness with the Universe

The abode of the cherubs and the chaste

The debauch and the demoniacal alike

I wonder whether it is the vile and vicious in me

Which senses a resonance with the chaos in the cosmos

Or is it the shallow-breathing long-captivated angel

Asphyxiating somewhere deep within

Perhaps my saintliness lies in just being human

However, the fact of the matter remains that

Eternal is the residence of Saints and Satan both

On the fulcrum of the Consciousness Supreme

The degree lies in the tilt of the lever

And that's so simple, isn't it?

This poem is shared with Poet's United for the Midweek Motif : Saint/Saintliness

Murder Of A Rose

From Google

His earnest gaze pierces my soul

His clasp tightening on my hold

Lips quiver in innocent appeal

Eyes brim with moistened gleam

Promises fake futile foolish

Douse me with glimpses of a

Wishful future and joyful overtures

My limbs slacken and heart topples

As I give in to his impassioned zeal

The very next moment strikes the dagger

Its stainless shine trickled with streaks

A bloody rose crimson in colour

Is wrenched apart from its anchor-twig

I can hear its silent screams from afar

I gasp and fume and slowly resume

My plaintive plea however in vain ....!

Its weird how symbiotically we merge in each other's being

Weirder still how we devolve into strangled cries and shaken faith

This is shared with Poets' United Mid Week Motif : Weird

A Flower Was Offered To Me

From Google

A Flower was offered to me

A Flower frozen in time

A Flower so distinctly beautiful

Its Petals soft and curly

Its Stems looking up to the sky

A Flower of exquisite Creation

Of Colour, Contour and Design

A Flower in harmony with the Divine

I could not have asked for anything more

And nothing would have substituted

The Joy of holding it between my fingers

The Flower was not a Flower

But a gift from Heaven, am sure

Yet countless times I calculated

The Cause behind the Motif

The Motive behind the Present

The Reason behind the Joy

The Mystique behind the Miracle 

The Possibilities it Proposed

The Opportunities it Negated

And in assessing the pros and cons

(A gross folly of the human mind

I know now it is...)

I somewhere lost the Moment

The Ecstasy of Gaining something Worthwhile

The Epiphany of Visioning the Enormous

The Marvel behind all Miracles

The Wondrous Find of Discovery 

The Magnitude of Magnanimity

And so failing myself

I lost the Gift as well

The Gift from a Horizon Beyond

The Love that was twined in its Stalk

The Care that was imbued in its Palette

The Bliss that was weaved in its Touch

I was Offered a Flower I know

But I Lost a World I know not When

This Poem is shared with Poets United's Midweek Motif " A Flower Was Offered To Me"

Incredible!!

Pic from Google

In the mystique folds of Life

I have found YOU

In serendipitous moments

Of self discovery

And realized with awe

That I am not the Only One

Who has wept blood

And bled tears

In your loving embrace

I have found solace

And in bliss of ignorance

Named it a Miracle

That I am still alive!!

Pic from Google

This Poem is shared with Poets United

The Old Man And His Songs

The old man sits by the road

A huge round turban like a crown

On his dome-shaped head

Layers of vibrant colours

A red and a gold robe

He adorns

Flowing like a crimson fall

Around his scrawny frame

The once-white-now-yellow yards 

Stretch from his waist to his bow legs 

Right till the ankles cling

The bow in his right hand is poised

Always to kiss the strings lightly 

Drawn on his left arm -"The Sarangi its called"

He utters and starts singing along

His sonorous lilt

Reaches up to the sky and talks to the 

Clouds dancing in sunshine

Radiant - fragrance of a gypsy land

Carries the breeze with every note

Crescendo....Diminuendo....wave after wave

Rise and fall in the resonance of his heart

He smiles as the song ends on a sweet echoing chord

The corner of his eyes crinkle

And the smile etched on his face illumine

The rugged contours, the stained yellow teeth

And the gaps in-between shimmer

The silver coins left by passers-by at his feet

In enrapture of something beyond

I ask him,"What song is it?

Where have you learnt?"

The hollows of his cheeks quiver in sheer glee

And his answer is as simple as he

"Life teaches many."

With that he arranges his bow 

Again to brush past the strings in a

soft caress

He smiles to his soul's content

Till the stars lit up the firmament

And the shadows extend deep and tall

Song Of Stars

Oh my alien star !!

On your nocturnal sojourn

 I await by my attic

For your twilight lore

Of fables born

As the veil of dusk

Descends, I hide your tale

Within my soul

Oh my sleepless star!!

From faraway heathen land

I fear not to intersect

Your trajectory night long

The distant sky beckons

With an ethereal kiss of

Light, I'd rather travel without

The ugly remnants of my life

Oh my poor, humble star!!

Listen to my plea

In your hurried flight of fancy

You may somewhere miss me

Dusty is my abode

Unblemished are your feet

I revere your ascent

But fail to reach thee

A favour I ask of you

When the time comes to flee

As I close in my lashes

You be what no one has ever been

(Inspired by the song "Bhindeshi Tara" from the Bengali movie "Antaheen", a classic in its own right)

Far And Near

(My Bangla Poem translated in English on Readers' Request)




Seen you a zillion times
In dreams far and near
At the bus stop, on the roadside,
While boarding the tram, in the
Crowded market place
Aloof, wrapped in your own world
And I in my lazy days, sleepy noon,
In soporific haze, in dawn's early rays
With the chirp of the birds
Woken up in a maze
Hunting for you
Did you hear me calling out your name?
Perhaps yes.....perhaps no.....


But


Silence beseeched
Why I wonder
Your lame excuses....preoccupation
In the corner of your eyes lay still
Sinful secrets of lusty stare and
The taste of burning breath
The answer was hidden....there


Another day...
In the humongous throng
Where bodies blur
Our song had gone astray
In the rush of blood
A distant wish had taken
The shape of an intimate muse
In a wave of guilt I had fled
From you....


Untouched innocence I am
Vile passion, venomous you
And a sacred quest in tainted hue
And those muddy kisses
Clenched in my fist
A sky clouded in rue


Are you mine?
Or a claim anonymous?
I know not, yet
When miles sweep away
The nearness of minds
Over oceans of time
I cross with faltering steps
Alone