DEATH


DEATH
I simmer in the boiling emotions of past
Oh! death ! it isn’t that easy
to sleep in thy arms,
before the world awakens
in duty is immersed my heart.
Would thou ever survive a second
in such life , craving for a glance…
Oh ! death! thou ignorant
of the mortal ways of earth…
how doth you know
the sordidness,
eyes when get wet with reminiscences …
Wrap me with the white linen
of thy warmth,
wait ,
let me furnish the assigned task
there are few minutes left
to be in thy arms!
My son!
Come here, adorn the casket
spread the lilies
Beware!
I fear roses
they prickle my skin…
quietly step near
I sleep in peace…
do not disturb…
photocredit:www.fantom-xp.com
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Remnant


Who knows thou! sings the baul

his fingers struck the single chord

the solo of duality , he hums

in remnants of the grief stricken

some old souls, few shattered and broken

Oh ! does it require to be a tatterdemalion

or a ramshackle old pier

to whisper the tunes of eternal weather

while plays the

impulse of seeking the invisible

or knowing Him through

the world visible…

The rampant hunger and

lingering thirst arrives wherefrom

in the arteries of singing legends

is it necessary to be in a deplorable condition

to call and cry for

the cosmic creator!

why forgets the mind of many

bask who in sun of pleasure…

its going to be dark soon

whence shall it find the light for right direction?

 photocredit: aduphoto.com

images

The lonely nightingale !


whence shall I be freed from the bondage of destiny
in blind clutches,
tied securely with strings
Breathlessly the body sinks,
ageing with the duties endlessly…
the cluster of orchids drooped
whilst I was busy in the chores of world
not once I got to touch the
enchanteur
failed the effort…
nothing earned…
why does the lonely nightingale then sing
song of solitude in melancholy
there’s a melody in her voice
inside the four walls
she sings and dies.
 
photocredit: king.portlandschools.org
red-winged blackbird

THE HIGHLAND LASS !


Winslow Homer-676928photocredit:www.fineart-china.com
 
O! Nifty , delicate highland lass,
beneath your trampled feet lies my heart
carefully walk and ride the horse
somewhere on the moorland , my soul drags along…whip when you , the lazy horse
watch the lengthy rope
moving in tangent harms
and sheds the cluster of flowers pink
those which hung from branches long.O! princess of mesa,
thou attire the floral skirt…
my love has decked the fabric
with embroider
and life hums the tune
of thy love song.

The setting sun’s beloved !


The setting sun today spoke

of tragedies and sorrows

amidst the life of a day

the goblet of fire too

weeps at conjecture

left when its beloved in arms of the night miserable

who engulfs,

the sweetness of melody,

the music of nature of its arrival…

haunting the innocent birds to their nests

shivers the sky

man trembles…

O! human, you knoweth not,

I worry for my beloved,

the immaculate earth, untill the next day ,

when I return

of the nights terror…

she sleeps alone, cuddling ,

while the sky cries,

the earth gets misty…

Alas! I must leave

you

to the fate of your own destiny.

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Barged !


from the window

of my room trepid,

while barges the first ray of gold

across my site camping

the melody of little thrush

I hear

echoing mildly …

 

hurl I the things next to me

at  the thief , unscrupulous ,

forgets who the ethics code

to steal my sleep forever…

 

hark, the thrush is here

red glimpses amidst the bushes

forget I , my rage

and anger

smile at the welcomed ambience.