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