Monday, December 28, 2015


I know not
Who you are
Spreading all-around
The life's whim
Giving reason to my understanding
Churning thoughts after thoughts
Did one life was not enough
To Axe my breath
Knocking death's door
How was your presence
That swayed every faith in you
Till I bought a coffin
To measure my length
Giving one more kneel
To your bearing
Galloping far and above
Did one life was not enough
To search you behind
That long corner of marrow and bones

Tuesday, December 22, 2015


I float universes
To birth inside you
Yet you gap a void
To empty the rush
Dream often comes
Wide awake
Yet you flake my eyes
With drops of icicles
I hold my steps
Lest I worry you not
Yet mire are my act
To see your cry
Excellent review ...!
I prostate!!
"This is actually a potentially really excellent poem, and I understand it...imperfect language use to a certain extent, however, affords the mist through which this excellent poem cannot be seen clearly for what it is.
Great title.
Those first two lines are amazing..."I float universes / to birth inside you" beautiful."

Sunday, December 20, 2015


Dab  lightly
The letters from
the frosty windowpane,
to gauge
the measure of love
breath to breath

Many facts
Remain unknown
To a face in the mist,
Still silent birthmark
Choose oneness
By every streak of finger mark

I withhold luxury
Life after life
To quarry upon
The golden mines;
Some more dead have risen up
To read your script by longer jaws

Wednesday, December 16, 2015


O the muted gloss of my gravest floss
Chime not, tinkling thy smile;
Wonton I ask ‘me’ to clone my face
And hid ‘myself’ behind
by the same blind alley
Through which my tears flows

O yonder, mantle of yore;
A silent bellow
Breezes warmth,
to every drop
of sweet salty tears
from my cursory face

O ye
The ballerina
Of my dancing cusp;
I possess every point
To quell the force
Into thy bellicose poise

I have known
from every fallings of my eyes
The thaw of universe
in each drop, abandoned;
On the lost paradise
Bruised, and bruised again


Ill begotten lust
Erupts into volcanic saliva
Drooling molten strength;
As morality trifles away
Dousing mortal remains

No less, was the miracle,
As nature slovenly smiles;
Here, grandmother hangs around
Holding an act of melodrama:
The modern life, enacted


How I wish
to see, that Simmering light
the utter darkness
sweet of pleasantries
gossiping unfathomable gulp

Not of how, or who
We are;
Many destined moments, comes
At the wee hours
of microcosmic rendezvous;
The meiotic inception

How I wish
to see, the spark
rubbing stone upon stone;
to come forward, and greet
with a pleasant smile;
"Stone that turned into flowers".


When decibels of deceit
Crown the highest crest;
Impostor dispose nicker
Of the softest guile

When mobile groove
To gouge the keypad;
Prepaid sham scores
To swindle postpaid amount

When rush hour is paramount
Fallopian tube
Surge an iron egg
To slip the vitals, out

Monday, December 7, 2015


No seasons took away
The perfect calm,
A slumber it was
That sealed my spirit
Weaving fabric of day and night

To worth
I enquired my delight,
How sweet was the rosy touch
When I resembled
The very feel on her

Nothing common did I feel
Casting mine eye to see,
I took off the face cloth
And was dazzled
How my work curled on her face

Thursday, December 3, 2015


You are
The dawn of skies
the dusk of an ocean
O lord, my twilight

Plant me verdant
To breath rich
my little life
O Lord, my oxygenator

Dab my soul, with
The softest brush
Smudging thy love
O Lord, my plume

I crave éclairs
Munching day and night
To muffle thy warmth
O lord, my confectioner


I burn my skin
Charred blackish lard
Groping the end so near,
Pithiness surging high
Succinct of laconic waste
The life;
Embarking on the journey
from where I began, inside
To whimper
The lost crown, hidden
Unborn, cloying the abyss
As sweet as jaggery;
The progress lean on
The rebel, who you are;
To lie down
When the entire ladder must struck
The thud of the falling heart


Whenever I happen to glimpse
My luminous fluorescent bulb,
Glowing dark at nights;
I dare a buzz by my ceiling fan
To fan your beautiful hairs
Sans any blade


Where the two points cusp
In trajectory of running life,
There I find an option
For my new beginning

Where the night and day are equal
In balancing act of equinox,
There I find my cursor
Marking celestial sphere

Where traffic light beeps
Crossing beam at crowds,
There I find my shell
Covering my wink


Whose imagery dangle
Sagging inebriated warmth,
In the dark colliery of my heart
Diamond of thy love glitters

What richness adore
The seekers that seek,
One sacrificial offering
Born out of my begging heart

When tender thoughts
Drape my innocence,
I charm my heart
With golden flame


Do I need to implore
The leaves, that
Falls down the trees

Moments drudge
Thy hoary face
As I labor my life

Heaving a sigh
I wearily tread
Lost vision mine

One day more, I hold;
To bear thy pound of pulp
Inside my worn-out womb

Till when
In falling down,
Life will spread its branches

I implore the muck
The knoll of earthy mound
Wet and dry


When the legs, bear
a protruding womb;
A new cry, endures
recurring pain
Taking strength, step by step

Offbeat are His
Novel scheme;
The boon, that
Delight in birth;
Purl a golden knit

Such are the sortie
of defense,
When quest of musk
Takes to blush;
Why women can do, and
Men can’t

Wednesday, November 25, 2015


Writing down back,
The pain fades away.
These memories never last,
Itz just a game to play.

The pioneer of the blood,
Love vs. lust...
Dreams shake reality,
With dust and bust.

Awful moments comes with pain,
You won't gain until it drains.
The pitiful showers that curse the oceans,
That shape shifting power with radium.

In the camouflage of the light,
Hides the darkness, coward.
The dreams still panic
And makes it awkward.

Prepare for ambush, it never comes forward,
With the sorrow, with the hazard.
It gives us thing giving us the reason.
I can't drown my demons they know how to swim.

It's starting of the end,
The blackish colour,
Deeper than any wound,
Cuts the wound of heart.

We are not alone in this world,
And are anonymous partner.
The curse is back,
The pain all gone.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015


What trade
Mobile matrix do
Swapping love

Hearing a tweet
Jungle roars
in amoled swipe

All embossed love
have vanished
from the pulppy keypad

A whip
to lash the remains
crucified in love

the swipe, the mobile phone ...


Buzzing life particles
Pledge its part, suspended
Between timeless flow

One knows, not
One hack,
by colorless strip
will sow slouching shadow
On the death-field:
The seed of mortality

Flagellating tentacles of animating life
Brace time, with
Slender markings of fading hues;
The fur that cascade color, before
Consume the rest, after;
By the willing shadow of death

That probing;
Groping for the life, again
Probe the seeds of mortality

Saturday, November 21, 2015


Who we are,
in body and mind

When I seek;
You drive your walls closer to me

I choose to live alienation
Between skins and white bones

When I stretch my heart
You play a cotton beat by your ears

No vermin, nor voice; metamorphose
To get me transformed

What class do you fit me in your capitalism
Proletariat I was, proletariat I will be.


When breath, stops
by the bullet fire,
throwing grenades

Death, walks in
with flower wreath
Freezing in smell


I have changed the options for you
to see me
to feel me
and to hold me in your breath;
by all this attentive mountains, the soft breeze
the swaying fields, the earthy soil, the flowing brooks
the glowing city bulbs and the running nights

When I will be less more
To drowse you a nap


I will be braiding your locks
somewhere in the dark skies
with my proper hands


I went to the market
to buy vegetables
What pity
I saw crushed tomatoes
splittered along the path

Just before
there was a blast

Does blood
taste sweet
like tomato ketchup

The taste of death
in my mouth


Monday, November 16, 2015


Where is the quill script
of my golden hands,
dipped in Quink
it flowed capillary to my veins

every facet
in glass, porcelain and silver
Angled my love
with unhurried glance

Many 'Magna Carta' chartered
all cloved hooves
In swift say and justice;
Dripping its measured hands

In exemplary finesse
I exemplified my handwriting
towing my proven strength
with milder pride and soft love

With renewed vigour
I power my knuckle
For another manuscript
For another heart to win

My handwriting...


When memory
Flash a moment,
‘Time’ shush passes my dreams

I giggle,
Frothing the time
In ceaseless fizzle

My rationality, drown
With a plunge:
Who plays “the pied piper of Hamelin”.


Faces rise high
Twinkling a beauteous smile

A candy crush, cushion
Sweet dream enamored

A blush, shyness abound;
Charm thy heavenly gait

Planetary amulets bind the skies
Vamping soft to ward off evil

A pang, I keep by my heart
To be; and, crush your heart

Mystery, map an unknown thrill
Bellowing the cloud smoke

Yet of twinkling brides, that
Orb beauty, as faces rise


Amid thoughtful stance
Your fancy you wear

What drudgery gained, that
Those who have woven your life
With hike and hue
Struggle with strain;
The trauma of burdened life
Dilapidated and coarse:
The strands, shabby
Decayed and decomposed

Amid rattling clang
Your tail wiggle like a dog

What appalling silence, heave
Sticky and sultry air surrounds;
Those who were empathetic
Whole your life, and
In all your woes;
Slide their lips, grim
With diminishing wish
And greater goof


Falling statue does not
Strike you dead

You have not found 'You'
When you make mockery of the mould

To unlearn,
Unlearn the God of the mud

Rim your heart welting your soul
And so is, the anger broken away

Monday, November 9, 2015


Images wipe down
like desert sand
As colours storm
Back-facing the canvas

The desire choose
To live
By its own gainsay
Life back-facing death

I strain my body
To shift consciousness
May be He can tear my time-fleece
Shearing all my skin


How must I measure
An angle of thy love;
All degrees, slant
At the base of thy feet

As I pull up
Stretching my head;
All my wishes trails
Behind thy halo face

I have ever tried
And tried my thoughts
With an innocent desire
To dance thy dream

All values in morality
Pride in false realism;
Keeping me to follow alone
The path, that Is.

Must I follow an end
To creek happiness
With my last wish
Streaming down my cheeks

How must I measure
An angle of thy love.
All vanity, strike
Lightning with madness, alone!

Friday, November 6, 2015

My silent faith

While you beat the drum
with dumbbell sticks

My silent faith
Brew another religion


How curvy
Thy Coca Cola smile
Frothing mouth to mouth

A wordless manoeuvre
To gulp;
The colour of my heart

To self
The potion strip;
A medicinal bump

A pie
I earned;
Ploughing seasoned broth


The pretense in ‘time’
Prime on waste.
Those who boast their Lamborghini
With air and sport
Are callous of style and elegance
Proving their empire's demise

One slurp of deadly spell
Will engulf your sum
The glitter and the gleam;
And flash a deserted look
With whimper and whine
Homing waltz of weeds

The scarcity groped
Cloying forgotten looks.
No raging bulls, now
Race the car,
Nor Lamborghini
Flare its nostril

Monday, November 2, 2015

David Thane Cornell

Life is full of scrapes and nicks, But you're so polished at 46. Keep shining!

~ David Thane Cornell


Glass is on a table.
The glass, is on the table.

Premise is judgemental
Where the proposition ends.

Burden of thoughts, does;
Cracking the glass

Inertia stays transparent, at ease;
Where the words changes in a lie.

Silence does;
It does beyond the crack!


I cocoon special moments
for your 'Like' and
Facebook updates in my heart

and I keep treading my cursor
for the hungry clicks

Your images binds me
with joy and hues

and you are never far
by my dreams

May He be there
twinkling in the sky

But may be someday
He will tweet his kindred heart

All denizens of mother earth
Will reap His compassion at heart

All will be peace
And no war!


Lapping nights, masquerade
The darkest fold

A facade of loving smiles
Curves dimple in space

It rain blessings
As flower blooms


Tonsured tree
Enforce slovenly
The wilderness of wasteland:
The life;
Bare of greenery
Cobweb of stretching and stiff branches
No capillary, no viscera, and
Nothing for mitochondria
To power its dead cells

Disheveled head
Shear skins.
Nothing of wooden rings
To brace its perennial age, and
By asking:
An ageless deprivation

Gentle soul mine, sleuth
The missing link with ample hands
With rootless root:
A packet of photons
A gift from Godot!


Not less was
the raining of pleasant dreams
more happier, than
When anointed one
swept the breeze
With pinkish smile:
The blessings of God

Flowers waded
willowful of hues
In handful bouquet
with joyful enchant
Wafting an essence
that traced
An aroma of birth

Blue halo

Blue halo
Sky thy vastness
As, wisdown speaks
Silvery clouds


Vases of flowers
counter-top my senses
Seeing the glass, painted
with fresco gardens
the crunchiness
of dead flowers,
The petals of which
have fallen;
of which
I have picked up one
To sense the 'wait'
in my present
without words or symbols

‘I can do it, picking
Head in the clouds,
confabulating without deception
my emotional processing

Saturday, October 24, 2015


Whiskers of thy touch, weaves
Passion of tears and tides
Cajoling inveterate
The link to thy groove
To cup thy beauty
In my eternal sip, that
Gleam a buoyant bloom
Twinkling my blood stream

All ornamented bearings;
That flesh my wants
Claws my breath

Now, the time comes
To covet my perfunctory wishes
And grow into thy bliss;
Sans any desire
Sans blood and breath


Who will fill the 'Dots'
of genuine freedom
"The freedom of speech"

What Govt, does with censorship;
It Does.

What of a drop
that ripples
the whole of cosmos


Sitting dark, on a limping chair
I rub my nose by distance of one or two
Throttling the water flow
Along the diameter of cold pipe
That curves,
To pour water on my Sintex roof top

I peck the returning shadow, twice
In simmer of howling night;
Proving the worth of my consequences:
Did I grow my beak, strong
Making friendship with the sparrow at sunrise today!

Was fearful of the consequences:
Who cut your nose?

The distance kept on eluding
The glum of sitting night, and
I kept on checking the attachment
to suave my nose


Moments have gone
Easing its pulse

Dilapidated old pillars, delude
The momentary pride

Coving smug the wreck
Chapped lips with cold blood

Cobweb, denude
The bearings of strength

Treacherous time runs high
Enticing the trap

Old skins odour sweet
Sagging putrid in mushroom bloom

Mighty mites buzz brown hills
Rubbing rubble mixing roots, deep

Lo, one more stake takes shape
Fixing by modern pillars

Tuesday, October 20, 2015


Not a filial bond
A deeper understanding of ‘self’
Between the silent dump
Wagging and rising
The trough, deeper inside;

The clue for ridges, disappear
Behind the plethora of
Crescent waste:
The crumpled crest

The tidal waves repulse
An oceanic throb
That builds their castle
In silent dreams;
Marred with splashes
Marking a dead end
at the cantankerous shore
Thumping belligerently
The brutality of filial bond.


When I shudder
to take thy pulpy pink
The baby born

Know it,

I wrestle my faith
To quiver
somewhere, there
In the wreck of the modern age

Time bomb, pins up
In a blast; ticking away ... all

wreath the last, the least;
to defuse
the tickling sound
still ticking...
in silent graves!


Seven skins; hem
The edge of a sari

Your sandals,
Tread openwork
In peacock gait

Bearing friction
Between tar and the toe
You march
Flaming the road

The seven skins…!

Sunday, October 18, 2015


Lump of throat
Clog my nostril;
A warm drop rolls down
The frosty eyelids

Your magnanimity
Fire my spirit
To owe you
My last breath
Beyond the constrain of time,
To where, every of my dust
Prove worthy of my existence
Beyond death,
My consciousness regale
Serving you my existence and beyond…

I wipe my nostril
Sticking ooze
by my thumb-knuckle;
Glistering, twisting wrist, search
Some dry spots
A pant, a body, recurrent
Pulsating moments, alive…

I owe you my breath, indebted forever,
O my bounty, my crave of heart
O the incarnate thee, the nameless ONE
The supple hands, sagging skin...

I wipe my nostril, heavy of heart!


There is more to twitch, cautiously
The 'Amber' of traffic signal;
At the trajectory of beehives jam

It fumes more smoke, burning petrol
Than, streaking beauty at the edges;
To tan the skin in scorching sun

Blisters are my paradise
That feel a mole, my moon; as
I heed no honk playing thy cheeks

Lights dangle, spherical crowd beep;
I of the breed, take thy plume
Wafting the air in my static stance

Bypassing my stay a little longer
I pave roadway to a galaxy, that
Sheath the matter of my love

~ Inspiration DN (Daipayan Nair... my poet friend)


It takes many names
To commute the beauty in
What is left of words;
Flips an ocean of tales
To confide the imagery, Bonafide!

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Celebrating luminous

Celebrating luminous
I die my clans by eons
alluring thy light;
Where the sect, is
no different, from
the burning fire
Where my soul resides


Have gathered a new storm
Furrowing the muse, indepth

The bristles that play taut
Still, yield not to thy art

Have taken a vow by my bow
To crest the fallen heave

Pantheons of imagery ply
To comply, bumping my wishes

Craving an epicurean hue
I sybarite my rainbow dreams

A moronic opera I conduct
Televising skirt and legs

What fatuous inanities I gain
I gain, a moron by my standing

What beauty remains of 'remain'
Remains a carcass to my last

To yearn my longing
I keep burning my corners anew

To ensigns regalia to thy beauty
I cloak, all my vastness in

... and I yearn!

Friday, October 9, 2015


An epicurean of love
Slammed the distance
With a surly thump
Yearning a call, without
A care in the world

Wriggling in flipping pain
He cried,
An oven of smoke,
Amber of his love

While the ribbon of life
Was thinning his length
Grating, shred after shreds;
The remnant nipped
His brisk breath

Journeyman, a passerby
Intoned a song
Gabbing a lousy laugh
And tore free, outlining
An empty quest

Tuesday, October 6, 2015


By an axis of curvature
My ‘Dream’ rolls,
Twisting and turning
The imagery, real
In perennial blink

Very often
Absence in me, makes
My pillow moist;
Soaking teary warmth
In convivial drip

Those rare off burn
Consume my strength,
Guiding forlorn
My echoing grief;
In silent body tavern


Commend the beautiful fire
Combing longer flames;
How I wonder, what
Procurement they gain
Igniting farthest planets
Maintaining planetary stance

My ‘Mercury’ stands close
Tolling the ‘Pluto’ bell;
No less big is Jumbo ‘Jupiter’
Grazing ‘Earth’ green;
My ‘Venus’ shies my youthful days
To ‘Mars’ my Lollipop

Commend the pleasant play
Alluring the skies
With a nuptial knot;
Garland an honour, tempting
Shooting stars, awake!


How i ask my breath
To beat for me, as
You are so far away
like a painting
in forlorn look!

Swachata Abhiyan

Brooming 'time'
six days a week
Thoughts are cleaner
than on sundays


I knuckled my bones, stiff
Bending my toes
Footing, half slippers; perspiring
a silent beat

Cloying an oppressive air
Voice lost its volume, as
An uncanny whisper
Sneaked, by its larger shape

Fear grazed grimly
The strange twilit lofts
Weeding the dank darkness
Cocking my ears

I groped
About my slippers,
Cracking louder bones
Against the resurgent voice

A pungent smell hung
The dark doorway
Rasping its nose, while
I inhaled the whole world, agape!


Be safe, lest
Beauty can overrule
the edict


I eagerly followed
the movement of the Dark;
listless, I began to hear
Noiseless fish, as they swam
about the fearful waters
Above, the fathomless beneath
veering along the mindless path
keeping a deep sigh within

Muted all began, Death
flapping its deathless wings;
a treacherous comforter
familiar and indispensable;
inspecting quiet and lonely place
Choosing a winning noose, hanging
by the strong branches, lurking
behind the detestable forest, grim

I eagerly composed
Little by little
A brief farewell letter
Those were to be found on my corpse;
Relapsing my momentous pride, that
I did not do in my life;
Desperate and forlorn straits
Now wait my sudden demise


Chandeliers of life events,
decorate manger by the crib

Perforce, all glands are joyously filled
evoking nuance feeding the beat

Subtly, moments settles fast
Untimely insinuation for the bereaved

The dying have only one abode to settle
The life slur many agonies left

Apparent, are the apparition whole
that house craters and water on the moon


दर्पण के अल्म में 
पाया था तुझको कई बार 
ना जाने कौन सी कसक बाकी थी 
जिसको देखा, नफ़स 
वहाँ से विलीन हो गई 

अब तो परतें भी जमने लगीं हैं 
पत्तें भी झरने लगे हैं;
रौशनी भी काया बन झुरमूठ तले 
आँख मिचौली खेलने लगी है 
फ़क़त, फांस भी एक पहेली सी लगने लगीं है 

माना की बेदाग़ थे हम 
रब के औलाद थे हम:
फकीरी क्यों कर आयी ;
लगी थी जिसको 
उसी की नुमाइस करने लगे हैं हम 

दर्पण भी झूठ बोलते हैं 
एक चेहरा छुपा कर दूसरा उगलते हैं;
अब तो चाहत भी नहीं 
गंजे सिर पर बाल उगाने की 
काया तो काया, दर्पण भी बेरंग होने लगे हैं

Tuesday, September 29, 2015


Moon slink through gloomy rift
By the mountainous hulk,
Swallowing an old fashion peace

Nimbus of remoteness, dissolve
Mortar of melancholy dream,
Duping thy wanton play

Meekly I submit
Thy last war of epigrams,
Smelling death, as deer smells hunters

Fleeting apparition, whirl
To feed the fear in longest run;
Ditto I fix a bet, as death fixes silence

Moon slink through gloomy rift
Tugging along the rotten flesh,
Swallowing an old fashion peace

They call you a saint now

With thanks to Madan Gandhi ji and Tapeshwar Prasad

They call you a saint now
some do
revered or reverend
and though it feels strange
it has something in it
some grain or element
or ring of truth
that makes me not (dare to) gainsay it
Those who knew you
know it too

Sunday, September 27, 2015


How rarely,
You bare up
the extant of my dreams
flinching, unconsciously
the rectitude of my heart
In door-less lea
and a blooming sky;
chirping, cajoling
the consciousness at large


When calories, groove
the crux at heart
Billion stars brew,
Frothing mighty strength


No lesser sounds
were enough
to damp my passion
when you
crushed me
by your silence


No sooner
the sun hides, behind
the mountains silhouette
in twilight trail;
a new narrative, begins
to groove the memory
streaking night entails;
by the loving warmth:
the tale of tales
lofty in dreams
flickering the gleam,
by the throbbing heart

Thursday, September 24, 2015


What mnemonics strands
I pulled by the darker nights;
The slate-grey brush
Grumbled about its hair-loss!


I ride my bicycle in globular planetary move
peddling frontal sun-wheel, and rear by the earthy wheel,
the spokes which binds the strength in joyful streaks

The frontal sun wheel steer the way shining the path
the rear earthy one makes cosy the feel in diurnal move
Thus I pedal the corners of space with joy and happiness


Vesper tinkle
In twilight prayers,
Tears fortified

Have lost your name
In muted silence,
Hemlock cupped

Lips mumble
My last puff,
I prostrate thy feet

Beggar I am
Circling skies,
Searching thy hinterland

I am not of You
Neither you to me,
I wriggle my lost providence

Reposing all faith
I ache thy form,
Sluicing my sin


Thy craze of vastness, have
Eyes of thousand galaxies
Many visions of sun's golden heart
throb inside my lubricant dreams

Melody of all moon's silvery nights
Dismount the skies highest stars;
To croon a soothing air by my ears
that quaver my warbling lips

Like an inertness, that
Surrounds the vacuum inside the bulb
I meander my life's tenure, unresponsive
to a greater light that augur thy move

That which govern a bigger chalice
full of nectar to the brim;
Truce my passionate desire
to unshackle the 'self' in true freedom 


those bearer of
Silent flesh;
willow a touch
by its tangent whip

I unbearably,
my branches
from its gory look

by tongue of fire,
flare the slurp
in countless pyres
to quaff
the venom in flesh

Murked by its end
I spew its last remains

Friday, September 18, 2015


A heavy saddle
By nightly ghost, rant
a perilous course;
fuming its charge
in deeper outburst

Hallucinating paranoid
By the darkest caliber;
Monks burn fire,
whirring his head
Opioid of strength

Darkness; crusted
Death-dark, rumble
A ghastly hump
in lesser comatose: The cry;
The growl of grizzly bear

In measure

In measure of earth, you were silent;
In measure of bounty, your's was my sky.


Always, you prove
The worth of vending machine;
Debiting an account,
Crediting thy rank

Spanking new
Thy melodious crush;
You run, crisp
Thy currency note

Every broaden wish
Fill up the fallow land.
A new sprout, blurb
The worth of vending machine


I loosen my closed eyelid
Slight of faint strength
Simmering straight, thy glow

I hold mountain of breath
firm and stocky built
to listen by my parched lips

One that bid adieu
A long time ago, commend
A holy grail, for my last respite

All music that wired my breath
Died in your reluctant will.
All acquaintances, now; brew a leap

I can hear the swoosh, running
inside the pyre wall. Only
A decree; and was reduced to grey dust


Those who prune
the hollow husk,
ear the worth of moorland

A deeper plough
that till the earth, croon
the worth of metallic claw

Noble His ways
Nobler His path, that
fret the colour of life

Those, obdurate
of minor due,
yield a luring pun

A tender feel
that resuscitate my heart
critter thy pet name

Noble His ways
Nobler His path...

No Hitchens, nor Dawkins ... 'Olay' cream or 'Wild man'

Let us heave
those sittings
in totality, that
plat a silent form,
the unbecoming of
thoughts and its imagery;
sipping netarine faith
in truer understanding of His love:
The merger of me, and
His divinity into mine

No Hitchens, nor Dawkins
drew any reason, to faith;
neither Khuswant or Russel
had any repo with practical atheism

Count not, my leather skin
in beauty by 'Olay' cream;
with 'Wild man', the bear conditioning dream.
All beauty, sag
bearing the brunt of time

The parody is explicitly
a flaw, a crack;
into His divine will

No Hitchens, nor Dawkins ...


Thy thought
beat my silence
in truer knowledge of
my understanding
that has, become
a gainsay,
to my observation,
sans act,
sans intellect;
founting thy knowledge
in becoming
the becoming of you:
thy upholstery of faith


A coughing delight
I rattle down
the last puff,
unnerving my senses
that brew
my certain demise

I drool my
quivering thoughts
down the spine;
doing away
any kinship with life
Toying my breath

your gory charm;
forfeiting momentous heave
pledging the debt
seasoning the lard;
bologna to thy taste.
Did I do any wrong!

Friday, September 11, 2015


Thy thought
beat my silence
in truer knowledge of
my understanding
that has, become
a gainsay,
to my observation,
sans act,
sans intellect;
founting thy knowledge
in becoming
the becoming of you:
thy upholstery of faith


A coughing delight
I rattle down
the last puff,
unnerving my senses
that brew
my certain demise

I drool my
quivering thoughts
down the spine;
doing away
any kinship with life
Toying my breath

your gory charm;
forfeiting momentous heave
pledging the debt
seasoning the lard;
bologna to thy taste.
Did I do any wrong!

Thursday, September 10, 2015


My ceiling fan, rolls
its sarcastic laughter
As I bellow, ruminating
my deepest thoughts

Unmanly I fasten my bolt
screwing the nut inside.
I transpose my ulterior
gaining the fan's faster wings

My ceiling fan, surcharged
brisk the revolving blade
Quipping the remark:
"When power wanes, humans search for nuts and bolts!"

Tuesday, September 8, 2015


Care thy world O Lord, care!
A headless hog, surface
down the murky lane
Prowling tail-less the darker nights

Yet many a stronger dreams, peer
the fallen porch
surviving the ruin; with
shrieking horror, howling long

Oozing thicker blood;
bundle of fear, silhouette
flocking the night hawk
A voodoo, communicating death

Once pride of fore, the strength; perchance
now, barrel down the sorcerer's line
Fallen spirits, assail
Moaning the darker nights

Care thy world O Lord, care...!


Golden was the old moments, when
Children would sit on baby seat;
the frontal of my bicycle view
and, we would talk of passing views;
the trees, the men; the fair
the lofty mountains, the river bath
and, would do maths with fingers jerks
holding the steel handle of my bicycle, firm;
slowly and strongly as we wheeled the path

All muted away
In a litre of petrol
And, the running miles

They wear helmets
with longer boots
and clink hard
with metal foot

We would talk of stamina
strength and kabaddi; next to our lane
the jolly fair with jovial crowd;
The soil of our land,
the sari of grandmother to buy
the toy for kids
the rolling pin for mothers;
Roller-coaster and the magic show,
the black diamond and the fairy queen

Much was pleasant,
playing its natural way
Time plays a distant zone
Vanishing of old charm, peeve my way

My golden bicycle...


Why you blare
your sound,
sitting on the roof;
Did I praise?
your voluntary urge
to act by your hoof

Your nails have grown
longer of now,
Your tongue protrude
sticking an outer air;
Did I clove an aroma
dried like a bud

Why you covet
your strength,
sitting life in fragility;
Had I not shown?
the preview
How to mend love
Ulterior to your motif


I was minor
in your sizzling invent,
to keep your remembrance
trailing my breath

My unconscious state
drew a willing thought,
naming the accord
to pull your near

A hefty sum was left
to credit my love,
drifting the warmth
to burden my heart

I was minor
in your selfless intent,
and was wriggling
to pay you back

My brewing madness
left me helpless, otherwise
to safeguard your love
I opted my heart out

A hefty sum was left
to credit my love...


Give a stony mass
to my silent chisel
as I sculpt pyramid,
thoughts mummified!


The slightest pulse
augured the looming storm;
Defenceless and pulverized
It broke into minor huff

Nothing was amiss
along the wimping clouds;
Fear and fright
Tethered the sky

The last pulse
Augmented the barren land;
Impacting a sudden blow,
A treasure trove in all peace.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015


Your two dimensional write
all black and white, float
three dimensional images
with multidimensional eyes

You have all the geometry
to dispose the art;
I have but one heart
to beat thousand times

Your words bind thoughts
soaking blank sheets,
etching memory, lively
with warmth of feel


From the crevices
of dead ramparts
a bud shines through;
decrying the keep, that
never outshone
when chambers played
a stony valve
to my heart, before

Bubonic heart mine
Swells my momentous pride;
sprouting, that dangle
the clear upper sky
manoevring the upkeep
with geal and joy
maintaining a tryst
in transit of faith

From fetters of
Stony hulk,
an oasis of trust, flows
by my heart;
All manoeuvre gained
was not all wilful
of my heart, but
wisdom that bonded us both


It is evening time, home comming
for the feathered friends.
Rustling leaves perch the weary wings
that flapped dawn to dusk

They will chirp their beak
with the longest story stretching the day.
Alongside, the little ones, crave
humming more louder the chirp
Synchronizing the beat with loving seniors

At the stroke of midnight, when
dreams paws a sleep;
one more of golden streak, simmer
along the darker nights;
Suaving a beat
more brighter than the night

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

इक मय प्याले की

झूमते क्यों नहीं हैं दरख़्त अब,
इस नशीली रातों में ;
कौन सी शिफ़ा से सजा रखा है
मयखाना गुलज़ार होने को , वहाँ !
मादकता क्यों नहीं लेती अंगड़ाई अब,
एक लम्हे को सराबोर करने को,
कौन जुर्रत करता है
चिंगारी में आग लगाने को, वहाँ
फ़ुर्क़त में शमा जलाते हो, और
वफ़ा की बात करते हो;
किस किस धार पर वार फरमाते हो, और
क़यामत में पिने वाले को ढूंढते हो, जनाब!
झूमते क्यों नहीं हैं दरख़्त अब,
लैला - मजनू की कहानी सुनाने को;
फानी है जिंदगी, फना सब रस्क
जुर्रत किसे नहीं एक मय प्याले की

Saturday, August 29, 2015


Heart upswells,
unto her feet

Prest my beat;
a single loan
of my heart

Thy beauty
doth inform
stillness of love

Amid bandwagon rites
I rolled the dust
with the longest glee

With braided breath
I roped thee
into 'me'

O, those of trance!
Cleave not thy bond
Tuck me into thy fold


Not lesser was the appetite
to buy fruits from the vegetable market,
with a penny in my pocket

I hankered after my passion
salivating my thirst,
to own an ounce of that fruit piece

No less was beauty more voluptuous
than with green lush and luscious flavour
that stacked fruits one over the other

I consoled my disappointment
banking pungent odour by my nose;
A putrified smell with stinking stem, there-after

A penny in my pocket!


Walking our thoughts
in goodness, we see
a clear sky, hung;
Over our heads

Hearing the gallop
in mighty heave, we lend ears
down the path, an image;
restoring my failing sight

Breathing peace of air
in numbness, we cleanse
our inward eyes, easing
moral strife to go

Observing things
in varied impressions, we feel
the silent feet, prized;
over spirited mood

Curl my beat

How I curl my beat
to thy eternal womb.
Every line you sketch
opens up a vast space!


I can never understand
your bigger weight;
the denouement of your vast space

A bud of reason, that
offshoot by my cursory glance
slight my tender life

Plethora of drunken imagery
dribble the plight in scarcity;
brewing poverty of faith

I can never own
your subtle form;
the irony of flight prat my being

The potency of strength
that vile me now
Debase morality

A shooting star, that
surge down the sky
augur a bad omen


When sweet words
croon our ears,
Hearts trills
resonating its beat

When the leaves
have its hue fresh;
Fragrance of love
Comes, blooming near

I manoeuvre tactics
contriving a scheme;
to inhale, fresh
An odour of love


When I wear
the only apparel to thy
sweet memory;
In credit,
I orb thy sweetest love

When I demolish
the wall of fear
crumbling down;
In tranquillity
I bask, orbiting thy love

When I wane
the façade of illusion
hanging high;
In greater image
I perfect, thy reality of love


I was waiting for you
In heart of my hearts,
Prowling fearless
In an ocean auburn

I tried summoning you
In births and deaths,
Calling vociferous
Words of thy silence

I was nailed
To bleed my shadow,
Shooting black
My tanned blood

How can thee
Sever a tie.
Have I
Offended thy knot


Post Card and Inland
are the privileged few
smelling old and sweet.
Hand written letters
all smeared with love;
A family filum
of all antiquity, and
a golden bough of communication
dripping the gravity of
said and un-said
in different hues
of parched and baby blue:
Post Card and Inland!


Today it rained heavily
Giving visible forms of dribble and drops
in an overcast sky.
A solitary tear trickled down my cheeks
Giving pleasure in tiny droplet

Not that it aroused
Wholeness in that tiny whole
but, an embodied self
bigger than me
Came piquing with curiosity

Towards the dim light
sipping in from the dark clouds
I could guess
Someone nodding his say
ascending my faith:
That golden bloom coveting my wish


Now, that
You have bigger tusk to show
in beauty; thy ivory greed

Who planted a bigger tusk
on your canine teeth, that
you sparkle grinning cruel smile

Now, that
You have longer tuft to desire
In ashes; your abundance lie

Who sever the light
by grey hounds of darkness
My irony peeve on your pretence

Now, that
I have no reason to cleave
I affirm 'Heart of Darkness'


Swill the gun barrel
cleansing with fur and peace

Paraded to the grave
'Ulta Shastra' tunes

Raise the bier sky high
Beaming bravery and blood

Hold the hilt firm
Rolling tears with might and muscle

Let freedom rinse
the bravery of our martyr

When all sleeps
Our borders are awake in the night

I bow, I bow
To to take the dust of thy feet

'Ulta Shastra' tunes
Vande Mataram!

Thursday, August 13, 2015


What strangeness crept in mauling my dreams that never casted any shadow, nor reality, to pin
Perhaps emotions were symbolic in effect, but weirder was my tears that never came to fore
All radiance denied, I varied the pace of cadence in pleasure and pain, modulating the flow


With feet of joy I rub my shoes, all day long for a brighter Sun
In soft murmur I opine an anklet round my silvery legs, as the night falls
Twilight yawn takes a fur to my illusion, one more quill to subdue strength


Daily hunger savour roti and rice, relishing it with longer tongue
Banned fast-food tempt me forked, by its bright and crunchy wrapper
Many sour and sweet fruits are hung by the tree branches, raw and ripe


No moving imprints of steel letters are coming out from the old typewriter
The authorities must have taxed heaviely the imports, to ration the carbon ink
A rope is needed to paint the blood blue for the gallow and hang person's writ


Life's playful perky stance fret the state of my anxiety
Invisible warm hands touch my life's colder pulse
Dog's long stretching yawn belie to justify its act


I float my hands
to dapple my touch
on the clear maple shrub
loaded with full leaves

Now many waving tentacles
of blooming happiness
looms out a fruit, fresh
from the crevices;
A sentinel to my joy

To spot the merger
I darted and dived.
More brightness came out
unflinching to my love


Into your framed glasses
of photo-chromatic lenses
mirror my eyes, with
A pattern of my love

I have, but, one thick
Convex lens to wear
by my weak stony eyes, and
an alms; begging your love

Do me all
to epitomize my love.
Miracle gains sustenance
In optics of love


There must be
other dimensions of silent spaces
in our stretching vastness,
clashing violently
with each other;
making its own vocabulary of war and win

Rimmed with passionate qualm
I slice my present urge
with thicker remorse:
Why with a noise,
birth gives a cry, and
Why with an end
It dies feeding the space
For fun

There, I explode
Like a giant star.
There, I burn suns and moons.
There, I quaff the burning ember
As Shiva consumed the ‘Poison’
Churning an ocean of milk

One more silence
For a demand;
One more victory for a win;
One more beyond, for a beyond;
One more birth for an immortal man;
No cry and no death
No war and nothing to win

O, denizen of other land!


With what aplomb
I discovered richness
in colour of thy resplendent heart,
all sweetness, thy voice
made a jaggery to my heart

All weak forces
wrought and twisted my form;
Flexed before my eternal faith
The only One
Wished glories to no ends

With what suppleness
I purview thy stance
The whole expanse to thy world, seems
A clump of candy
To my sweet dreams


Take the wrath of flowers
Keeping all burial under the earth;
Move with an undulating thoughts
Burning all the words within

Bang the shouts with silent stare
Keeping peace on the dove's wings;
Go out to seed hectares of land
Seeing greenery in dancing dreams

Take the task with toil and tan
Live the world singing beat of heart;
Witness the symphony exiting this world
Complete the stillness, where you must

Many more hectares of land to till...


If by kicking the rock to roll
will silence the talk;
Will it happen again, that
By resuming the talk
The rock will roll back its place, again.

If by pulling the Sun to beam
will torch the galaxies midnight;
will it happen again, that
By gathering the dark matter
The sun will reposition its take

If by force of pen
the will of an ink bloat page after page;
will it happen again, that
By spilling the pages back
the history won't repeat itself

If by hopping the warped spaces
will ping-pong the 'time';
will it happen again, that
By playing the 'time'
Can we not peep the wormhole!


Must I wear 'Bata' shoes
A gentleman’s hat;
Put on 'Raymond' coat,
a glittering tie, or
A shining belt
a creased trouser
and, buckle all,
to walk my poetry, in

I bash a blush
to put lipstick
like, a women do;
bangles that clink the wrist
a sari to cloak my skin
high heels for a sturdy walk

a half man, and
a woman too

fully ornamented

a bridegroom
and a bride,
to marriage my ‘self’, and
My beauty too

Not that 'm chimera or phoenix
God of any kind

must I show my bald head,
femur, shaking calcified bones,
a walking through the cane
that I do, and
slurry my path along;
lingering and pausing, repeatedly
along, the fearful path
Where it blows
its last horn
as bald as death


उन्हीं से जाकर पूछो
कितने रकबे प्यार के, मैंने
सिसकियों तले
लहू की लकीर से बटोरा है

उनके किस नक़्शे ख्वाब में, वल्द
अपने को नहीं पाया है

मांनिंद उनके जरा सी आह से
कभी मरने तक के ख्याल आते थे;
अब तो लगता है, मैं
किसी रह गुजर से इत्फ़ाक रखता हूँ

उनके किस पायल की झंकार से, मैंने
आंसुओं की मोती को नहीं सराहा

अब तो सांसों की आहट तले
जिंदगी भी बेमानी लगती है;
अब तो लाज़ की रवानी से
हया की बू आती है

रोज जमींदोज़ होता हूँ मैं
एक नए पनाहगीर की तरह

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

BHARAT RATNA: 'A newspaper boy'!

A newspaper boy,
to ecclesiastes of fore

Today, fire, more flares
by my wings,
for the journey, now, begins;
an ether to transcend

No more, no more, whine
to adieu the 'people's man'
as so oft he did saith:
to dream, and awake!

To the days, that
tomorrow will be no more;
I 'll see to it
thy mast, to bear
ever fluttering, thy heights!

While the embers shall burn
to cover up the skies;
I shall pledge by my words
to heave, golden, ever golden
thy beat

Thou hast, but
taken a momentary respite;
My chords are entact
umbilical to thy love

Now the newspaper readings will be
full of pearls tomorrow, tears
rolling and glittering thy every words;
Here lived the people's man, that
ones sold the Newspaper!


My strength fly
like an airplane
Streaking bright light
in the night

Some moon bear witness
Observant to my flight
behind the hoary sky,
Smiling soft, her silvery smile

All my greater thoughts
Stream up the greater paths;
I can see some elf or mermaid
floating in the sky

To pilot an arena
Where the destination entails
I ply my force
Young at heart

And, yet more
I bear the vastness
To fly my strength
Streaking the dark night


If  'll go inversely
back in time;
I will work my diligence
to drive, past moments alive

Rigid be the thorny path,
will furrow back our time;
and work out, conquering
Lovely spaces to conjoin

Not by any quota of flesh;
But by an anchor of love
will moor the story of our land, and
Spread our saga with perpetual delight


Play thy music
to my sick heart
O, Lord

Every thy thoughts
Beg me a bawl
Mauling my heart

No respite comes, even
Pausing thy breath

O, God
Are you, that far
Even to touch my breath

Have aligned,
Associating thy form;
Curve not, thy path
O, Lord

Play not thy hump
Swelling wound heights

Play thy music soft
Proving thy kin


At the fall of silent nights
When murmur seeps out, hushed
by the broken glasses
of the half open windows
streaking by the neighbours house,
conversing toil of day long stretch;
restless, I protrude my eyes
weak of sight

All alone, striding
under the dome of murky sky
on my roof top;
I burnoff my sobbing thoughts
Knowing nothing, what to quaff
but, my silent redressal
that caught my loneliness
And won
the better of me!


You tangled my wish
by the tress of your plaited braid
tumbling me down, pitching
interlacing thoughts

all beauty, that
gained me resilience, got
the better of your gait

Ephemeral I pass
diving my nose.
How I knew,
by what craft
You placate your beauty

While you stick new fragrance
to sputter your guard.
I only wriggle
Pressing my flights

all beauty, that
heave a crush;
Will chance someday
To bait your beauty

O, Lady!


Blend of variegated drops assort the mélange,
etching imagery where it puts a damp

O Rain, rain;

Fleck rainbow drops by the pupil of my eyes
Not much of imagery left, but grey dreams to accord

O Rain, rain;

Rally thoughts, where it meets to confluence
Dripping the window glass, trickling earth down

O Rain, rain;

Light! Thy shackle waft the dark clouds
Crinkle and crackle, thunderous it claps

O Rain, rain!


I never knew
the way of the worlds


never knew
to whom I cared
or, cared for whom

and, died
many a times


before an oracle:
"You are here to die, and to no return"!


I never wanted this pale brittle frame,
invasive cancerous, to all body parts
marrow of my bones,
the calcified canker sore,
the sloth of my body mass;
or opted for a pair of boots,
to grow by wear and tear
and get repaired by rubber caps;
the daily tussle kicking roads
labelled by tar,
the dark sticky purulent pus
that commute my lesser journey, near;
weaker ever weaker

I just wanted
a speck of dust,
an ounce of water,
and a little air to breath
O, my Lord!

UNFURLING ‘Rejected Stuff’ (21.07.2015)

Ruel, thy frolicking squirrel blob
Innocent of teddy bear's eyes
Will live long the look today
Unfurling ‘Rejected Stuff’

Ruel, thy abounding love
Drip corners from my warm eyes
No frailty but strength gauges your look
Unfurling ‘Rejected Stuff’

Ruel, thy chroma will ring
Oeuvre to thy wonder
Till my breath and beyond
Unfurling ‘Rejected Stuff’

Ruel, thy parents’ cocoon
Adore amber of golden love
I often fumble and fail my words
Unfurling ‘Rejected Stuff’

Ruel, my kindly muse
Partake a dew nectarine
As ever I shake my being
Unfurling ‘Rejected Stuff’


One of look

Which didn't gained my thoughts;
I pretended to gain by a look

Repeatedly I bobbled to and fro
jerking my head side after side
to invent the reason behind my doing so

I kept on prying
giving thrust to my query:
What the 'Broken brick'
was doing
lying by the side of the screeching road

Did it hurled or impelled someone
was lying useless
Burning sun and crooning the moon,
all at a time!

It was asking for more, engrossed.
I was lesser an item for the brood

One of penury
that struck my bones,
never came fulfilling
out of it

then pausing, I
receded my forward steps
a little backward, again
to that focal point
where the crimson red
shook my being

was the brick livid
of my lack of understanding 'him'
was just playing by my emotions.
I stayed there knowing not, how long

A voice: Hey, you!
are you mad blocking the pedestrian walk
Keep your side or
'll hurl you the 'Brick' on your head
I couldn't understood his peevish behaviour
let alone mine too

"Broken Brick"!


Thy beauty in marble
Carved my love.
The moment I stood by you
I transpired your gain in becoming you


Chimera of imagination
Like phoenix, rise
to each lustrous chalcedony;
denying not the precious moments
that sard my lust, and
cogulate my blood, red inside

Bearing rich the oeuvre
of your visceral art
I deliberate my thought
to engage my feel
unhurried and firm

Every broken splinter
that crave thy feel
split my seconds,
in gravity of your concern

Undertaking to pledge your worth
Appearance deny
an outfit of my emotions

There I scourge
a whip to my shadow dark

Flagellating thy fire to flames


I rustle your pain in crunch so deep
Walking thy cemetary, parching lip by lip

Who had not seen the passion riding so high
Who had not heard the music winking thy gleam
Who had not smelled the perfume wafting thy grave

Give me freedom to peck your marble dream
Tweeting bouquet of my loving bard
as nightingale does; the memorial of my heart

To pieces, your publishers tore your lungs
To desert, your 'fanny' cut your loving chord
To agony, your brother died your lap

My romance with death died down
the moment I lived your death, so young;
Half feed, I furrrow thy time, bygone

Your truth, the death; thy death, the truth untold
Your art, the greacian urn; thy urn, the silent form
Your disease, tuberculosis; tuberculous, my vain

My nightingale , my greacian urn!


Please note: fanny = Fanny Brawne

'Time', THY UDDER!

Not that, was busy
ratcheting up the brain
looking outside the vintage glass of train
to reason your loving warmth,


to creep semi-consciously
into your loving gaze
the gain of twilight eyes, and
wheel my train of thoughts
pausing at every station halt
to barter my faith;
where the 'wheelers'
shake their milk on the railway platform

Time, thy udder is ever resplendent
with every pregnant moment
whether it be 'pause' or,
when the train move, to leave the station


With an ink
of your feverish ash
I sniff as greyhound,
the stupor of life

from the whiff
of an imagery hulk
you overdid
my body and mind

I searched
my grit and gravel
scattered shingle on the shore
The blisters of my charred footprints

Short Poem 4

Love creeps
Rolling by tears
Part me not

Short poem 3

Hair turns grey
More records added
Brilliant twilight dusk

Short poem 2

Inebriated red
Tsunami brew
Life is silenced

Short poem 1

Twilight dusk
crap light
fangs rattle 

'Old age' PAIN

Maa was lying on the bed contemplating a blank look as she heaved 'this' (her) words:
"I will not live for long"

O, Maa
say 'this' not
to chock my throat;
have me under thy sagging skin
caressing thy warmth

It cognates love
that was your origin;
O Mother,
say not more 'this'
An orphan I feel

Look my words
all gets a crump;
say thee not 'this'
that thunder my heart
O, Maa take me along


Take your mask
to your heights
if someone asks your whereabouts
let not One point
a blank finger
to stir the past moments, alive!


You have got
other manifestations;
to kindle my heart

May you be far off
blinking like stars;
your trail still blaze my heart

May I be nerd to your wishes
still I confound
family of our breath

To vastness that serves an inn;
You have turns
like helix and whirls

You have got
other manifestations;
to raise my corpse

May you be far off
treading other dimensions;
still I bleat thy cry

To galore thy hidden mystery
I manifest
against your wish

You have got other manifestations to kindle my heart!


All words crumble
playing warm the flute longer,
to breath ages inside; where
Nothing pierces more,
than the void; measuring
every tapering end of tears
cutting down in years

Nothing remains of the 'Remain'.
All flock together:
The air, water and space;
to vamp the last rite

All friendliness sulk
the life's momentary gain,
in whose accord
The temples, mosque and churches
blare their own finesse
knowing not, that
God trade this brittle trick

Nothing of my say here, but
a dangling darkness for cure:
A sledge passing
The galaxy whirl!


Memory gushes in
To paint the feelings wet
Yet, mostly I face upwards
to sing, I do, I do

In gentle pass
and thinking more,
You trob me
pressing thy heart

Nothing volumnous
to the stormy days, here; but
to wait, and
to die in raining clouds

To return, and
then again
to Begin!

Inspiration: Kanchan Bhattacharya Ji


Harek daastaan-e-harf mein
sulagti hai shola-e-nafas
Na jane kis aag me, bataur
Jalta hai dil-o-dimag

Kaun wahan sulgaata hai aag
dil dhadhakta hai dhuan, dhuan;
naa raat yahan sasti hai
naa din taron se sazti hai

Kis maujua junoon mein
Phirta hai dar-ba-dar
naa lapat raas aati hai
naa aahat teri kadmo ki sunai deti hai

Kaun be-daag yahan
Paake-kalaam padhata hai
Harek zirah-uff mein
teri ah nazar aati hai

Harf = Alphabet
Nafas = Breath
Bataur = without a method
zirah = Discussion
Sayahi = Ink

Saturday, July 4, 2015


Pain, O sweet pain
Your naked weave
gathers viscous hours
giving trajectory
to balm my love

Wanton; others play
discomfort and sickness,
gathering curly hours;
bumping and jolting,
pitching a fouler cry

Sweet, pain mine;
Take no glum to lotion betadine.
Your sweetness
Outreach my own heart
When you play thus, as my own

Pain, O sweet pain...!


The glow of your eyes
never fade, as
it begins

By what means
I turned my eyes, and
forever I became thine

The inheritance
designed a thought
to my deed

By all these years
that I searched my heart, it
beat an honour to my life

The joy, that
blush upon me
redeem my choice

By one act of innocence
I owed my life;
The glow of your eyes


I drift
away from you
poorer, ever poorer

'one' wilted lot
I sag
under a silage
and my cold feed

My punctuation marks
are just a pause,
to understand
my poverty, unexplored

Your golden rays, that
trek the mountains;
falls, behind
my closed gaze

The curse was not empty
along my blind ways, as
unwanted, I drift
farther your gaze

To Divine trumpet
I dart my salvation, otherwise
pelting of more questions
will errode my existence

born out of my inaction,
I bind my will; and
drift nameless
to the void, unconquerable

Latin or English!

Latin or English!
Virgil or Shakespeare!!

Greeks or Renaissance!
Reason or Science!!

BC or AD!
The Birth or After Birth!!

Isaac Newton the son of a farmer or Francis Bacon of Cambridge
Kalidasa or Chanayka

The light or Dark!
The flicker or Spark!!

The 'like' or Status Update!
The facebook or Family life!!

The win or loose!
The dice or love!!


Minor are your art, that
Axe me
by dint of your say

I had hidden
many silent spaces
to bite your sound

spill darkness
to every of your words,
that slither lifeless
your mighty hulk;
wading down my gulp

to every bunch of
your clogging clump:
The thicket of mucous;
I muster, enough
my breathing marshal
cell by cell,



Shake you wine, proper
with a clink

a nectarine feel
to touch the burning lips

will take a bash,
the more you pour
a taut to your verses win;
A glass, more so transparent
that feeds you, have and heaves

Plz note: 'Madhushala', a book of verses by Sri Harivansh Rai Bachchan.


Quiet, you voluble man
that frets, beyond
my bearing,
your prerogative speech

My bicarbonate,
buffer me, against
everything; that
froth under your address

All little tongues of quietude
have slithered away
the gulp of sorrow and pain

Hush! Listen…
the feat of your wicked angel, that
do me less hard, and less pure too; as
I don’t seek your heart, anymore

I am one joy
Among my happiness;
owning stillness at night
That sounds nothing alive

Quiet, you voluble man
that split, gnawing
My usual form, else
I will cast anchor upon you!


Keep your faculties en-tact, as
The great Tambola man
turns his dice onto you
with voice and thunder

Look your numbers
keeping your virtues true, else
bogus will be thy run
in an act of furtive glance

Wear firm your smiles
with pleasing emoticons, else
no 'like' will grace
your recent updates

Life fabricates
one opportunity more,
to delve you
in an infinite shake

Keep your faith near,
by your distant look; else
nothing will measure you,
by any hammer chiselling your craft

Look your numbers
Keeping your thoughts kind, else
neither breath nor your reasons
will win lottery to his grace

Wear the march
with an iron foot forward
and, run the void;
turning, all dice unturned

Mirror your greatness
when you reverse your glance;
not him nor his, but
all was you, as The great Tambola man!


haven't heard before,
the mangoes, selling
so cheap
in the market;
Has the bitterness
of the world, forth


They ring and roar
to swirl about me
in the silent nights;
uninvited the eyelid
soundless blink
to cross dark shadows
upon the mighty hawk
an innocent creature
to travel furtively
over my glance, and
stilled, to hover me around
in full-starred heavens
and meet my face

Aha, they had an eye
for such mysteries!


Late in night on my hospital bed
when ceiling fans were gyrating
on top of every patient's bed
and hospital wore a solitary look
barring oxygen pipes, and some
hanging red transparent bags transfusing the flow;
infusing dead silence
to all hospital murky corners
barring the medical sister's doze

Very weakly
sounded my illness
from my hospital bed, knowing
he must be sleeping on the lower bed
very close by me, and
whispered into his immediate ears:

and, next
by dint of my father's strength
I woke my illness
in sweet pain, and
lamely, hunched with sweet look
I tugged along the wash-room
on my father's shoulder

it never turned my consciousness
as to who!
Flushed the urinal

I was tugging along the thoughts
by my depth of gratitude

Who could have listened
to weak single syllable
in the dead of night
...but by my Papa!!


All meaning
amassing morality, philology and all
Purport to determinism
in eternal redemption;
A symbolism of an eternal character
dominating the wholeness:
The mandala, my universe take!

~ Inspiration (Pramila Khadun Ji's The final journey)


Pull bandwagon of my love
Blooming and smiling brighter days, and
Love me in wilderness of hedge
fencing me with glad green leaves
Blushing beauty on beauteous lawn

Crazy are the crown, that
guard the hilt on the mountain tops;
Rarely I win my case
When you point me your treasure trove
Doing fairy cream, painting your lips

Pull me along thy suppleness
Scenting and flexing thy hug, and
Love me screeming all my joy
Caressing me along thy sublime look
Giving win to bandwagon of my love


Shall not that lamp rekindle
the burnt out laughter
from the hearts of my few friends,
Some are sad with shoddy face
smiling tasteless with concurring mild fate

Shall not that delight compose
the merry childhood run
from the ponderous glum of my few friends,
Some plod meagre, the drudge
Straining their tighter veins

Shall not that gentle wind flame
the hearts of my adoring love
whose hanging shadow, always
ping me bereft of longer lights
Hooting the elms from the darker nights

Shall not shrewd and canny world
tangle my love with shadow to contend;
Rob nectar from my hanging heart,
That is how I answer from the dark
Hooting my nights, wide awake!

दास्ताने ए हर्फ़

हरेक दास्ताने ए हर्फ़ में
सुलगती है शोला ए  नफ़स
ना जाने किस आग में , बतौर
जलता है दिल ओ दिमाग

कौन वहां सुलगाता है आग
दिल धधकता है धुआँ-धुआँ
ना रात यहाँ सस्ती है
ना दिन तारों से सजती है

किस मौजूए जुनून में
फिरता है दर बदर
ना लपट रास आती है
ना आहट तेरी क़दमों की सुनाई देती है

कौन बे दाग यहाँ
पाके कलाम पढता है
हरेक जिरह उफ़ में
तेरी आह सुनाई देती है 

Friday, June 19, 2015


Let such be the romance
that, if unkempt hairs asks
for any boon
to shift her silence
in ecstasy and fall,
let it do away with voluptuous and wider hips

The only leitmotif
that shimmer the 'evening-glow'!


With wealth
The litter and glitter,
Your art will increase
The heights of tomb and Taj

Alas, alas, what waste
my tears sigh,
Proving the love
in marble and earthy mound

Unfit for tombs and hearse
I adore my hermitage
On some lonely stars
Pruning love in sweet verse

Alas, alas, what erudite
Fastidious tongue holds,
begging heavenly azure;
Quailing my masonry free

With wealth
The chosen and the few,
My art will increase
The heights of state and spirit

Alas, alas, what fire
Your vault aflame
Nothing I look
That does not burn to ashes and grey

With wealth
The chosen and the few…

ONE 'morning'

One 'morning' more
Red, Ochre and yellow
Wagging happiness
in one more of a stroke;
expressive and elegant
scintillating and vivid,
the habitants
More joy, more light

One 'morning' more
Vacuous, pensive and sad
Crimson, sienna and red
Wagging miseries at its fore
in one more of hunger look;
empty and prolonged
ebbing and dwindling
the slump, the death
No more joy, more of grief

One 'morning' more...


Do you really need to
munch words
To pave your character

Please tell me your story
with fewer words
When did you last cried your belief

Do you still need to
worry your words
To extend a helping hands

Please give me your sadness
with longer silence
Till I heal you short, by my loving heart

Did you call me through muted response
needless of my worthy words
Find me beside you then, soaking thy pain

Please give me a compassionate look
worthy of mutual kindness
Weaving eternity upon us!


You only give me reason
to wing my fish;

My fins of steel
have mighty strength to cross the boundry of depth
diving in through an ocean of tears

Saturday, June 13, 2015


In your vague and distant looks
I can span your far cry, and
Can measure the crush
Hidden behind thy dusky veil

Some nonchalant and dull words
prefer me in passionate quash,
The extent to which you point me there
was never unknown to me, ever

You stood by your haughty pretension, that
Only you are the repository of deep and dark;
Raison d'etre are not those vague symptoms, that
Put you in distant reach.

Some dead points linger, between us two;
To quell the might of reason and faith
Why did you protrude your distant looks!


My bicycle
Sees me
through her sparrow eyes,
Hopping and bopping
The road so nice

All intuitive feed
Soak my visceral from
As, not of iron and wheels
But of perceptive demure:
Modest and shy
My little linnet, ferry me along

Creaking and screeching
She rasps my gyrating mind;
Tacit and silent
She pecks me
To lubricate the run

Yet, with grey plumage
My bicycle sprint:
The rust and oxides that weaves its turn
My little Rolls Royce runs

My bicycle
Sees me
Through her many forms
Cuddling and clasping my steel hands


You are there
without a body or form

Now, go
where the broken hearts
calls you
in cry and pain

Speaks thy might
accruing the gain
in tenderness and warmth

You are there
Without a complexion or hue

Now, go
Where the blood
smear the face red
in agony and anguish

Speak thy compassion
weeping warm drops
in togetherness and oneness