One act play

Her sari,

Hanging in the balcony…

Was heavy a while ago

Its movement was pretty slow

A drunken stupor

The golden mate

caressed,

Transformed its demeanor

Slightly embraced

Wow

It’s feathery now

Light, soft

Flirting with the breeze

O jeez

Can’t steal away

Tied with a spoilsport  

No way

It can transport.

All the three mates

Writing stories

Trying their fate

With the sari,

Who’s writing hers

The owner who wears

Shh…doesn’t even know

The goings-on  

Of all the four.

And the seer

Trapped in time, a writer

Of hush-hush, is engrossed

At times lost

Now and then

With all of them.

Life like this

Alive in moments’ bliss

She comes and takes it away

Thank god doesn’t notice me

Caught in the act for free,

Trapped in the play.

Note:

Sari - a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia. [Source, Wikipedia]

Crucial

fruits

colored, hanging

in the garden --

no sin to have them

but critical

you are caught in between

trees, birds

simple words written here and there.

Prophets of the yore

sad ---

saints present

bad ---

per your benefits.

You are busy

to know the reason,

to pinpoint the misfit

confused, because

you had been acting too

with the same stars

on the same roof;

the sky, the wind

the seas, oceans, mountains

never fell of their planes

and important!

You were reading aloud the same words.

You lost your way

in the clutter of letters

you looked for clarity

you found scarcity in bounty

you hollowness is connected

overlooking a lot of warm sounds

of those performers

who became important,

and whom you wanted to impersonate;

but the travelers

wanted perhaps to trigger your minds

communicating prosperity

but you triggered guns

in their names imaged poverty.

You have done the impossible

credible, you must be

glad.

You sound silly

I was trying to read your face,

It looked different

With its texture, color

I was taken aback to see

That you smile and weep

For the same reasons.

I was trying to read your text.

With same words and expressions

That you have learned in classrooms

Perhaps,

You construct an apple I’d call an orange

The fruit of your labor

Has some kind of strange

Sweetness,

But loses out on what I call clarity

I guess you’d find me hoity-toity

But willy nilly,

You sound silly.

Leaping into life

Sky is overcast.

Clouds have gathered

for the concert,

seated as poets, writers

singers, dancers.

Black freshness,

breezes caress

the whole stage.

Millions of songs and stories

falling from above, onto the ground,

mountains, meadows, trees

oceans, brooks and seas

listening and receiving

sounds of the clouds,

feeling,

drenching in

the lightness of the rains.

Life, life and life freshens

words, it’s raining words

quenching the muddy world

succulent energy

in every pores and holes

there’s this sudden synergy

present in these promising paroles.

Writing, singing, dancing

are millions of poets

without any hat

free from this and that

composing their best.

Pouring

life

life

life

asking life on earth

to listen to the call

of the freely

falling

rains,

maybe tad in vain

gather courage to sing and bawl

in the downpour’s musicale,

leap into the moment’s re-birth.

In between light and sound

Crazy ears and eyes,

Busy to criticize.

Powerful machines and guns

Killing distressed organs

Blinding light and sound

Deafening all around

Stealing ambrosial sense

From the drums and the lens

The power to hear and see

In present clarity.

But there’s music in the air

Hanging everywhere,

Easy ears and eyes

In tune might apprise.

Precious

No, I cannot afford to wait.

My coffee’s getting cold. I’m late.

That I can re-heat

The drink, my steps forget

I have cold feet.

I come from my morning walk

Reach out for the cup.

The trained talk

Takes me away, anxieties go up

With every single sip.

My mind missed the chirping of the birds

It reminds me of the dewdrops

I had to skip.

I wasn’t with the sunrise, overlooked the trees

Didn’t feel the grass, wasn’t present with the breeze

Life is here with me walking as my mate

With worries onerous,

This life precious, 
I cannot afford to waste.

Journey

Waves! Waves! Waves!

I have these waves inside me,

Old salty icy thoughts

Like tired bricks and clocks

All clean and washed,

Clearing severe ways

Rushed back to the sea.

Rays! Rays! Rays!

They’re running into me,

From the moon and the sun

Unseen, strange, unsung

Falling in my space

In unheard ecstasy.

With the solid froths gone

Felt a little bit alone,

Wondered what will I do

This image seemed untrue.

Standing in the beam,

Now a revealing company

A constant flowing stream

The image cracked and changed

I’m fully charged, engaged

For my truest new journey.

dichotomy

reflection is scared of light...

if the pencil dies, it will expire with it

if the stream bides, the specter will lose the credit

it is tense

for as long as it stays

for the crown of the knight

Partner

Death has come at last.

I am on my bed

going back and back

turning the pages, trying to search

for the space where feelings fell

in place, where time stopped,

but I was slipping on the surface

when I thought fearfully of death.

I looked out of the window

nothing has stopped, nothing changed

save the body that held me so long,

and brought me finally to my friend.

I am meeting my lover

shy, hesitant as ever,

no I welcome you

though I know

I will never be done

I was always looking for you,

in the meaning of life I was missing you too.

Hi there

From the mountain top

you were showing us your tricks.

The world is tied with a wire

from one end to the distant other,

connected with ease, without bricks.

Your vision is high, your mission and goals

foolproof with gumption, without loopholes,

technically the world is a global village

hearts in us are still heavy in the cage.

From the cliff you have forgotten to climb down

you need a hand to keep your feet on the ground.