Endless game

I have found you at last

if not anywhere else

at least

in my endless search.

When I eat something

from the roadside shop

meet someone on the street

or when I write to you, about you

lifting from the past leaves anew

in some obscure page

that I gathered being on the stage

within my visible time and space,

you touch me with your smiles

a push, a warm hug

from a whispering wind

touches my nerves,

a mongrel can smell you

sense you on my knees

it climbs

doesn’t find, strangely looks

I see you in the eyes of an urchin

the most divine face

to face nothings now and again

I see you in the fanning ears of a silly cow

for a split

you are open out there

you disappear I don’t know how

in your favorite game

you play with me

like a child who doesn’t know its name

can hardly speak

laughs aloud playing hide and seek

yet the game is only to seek and find

for I know you're here for good, you never hide.

You hide behind the moon

covered under my sleeping pillow

behind the morning sun

that touches my coffee cup

we so tenderly share

or you may be lying below

veiling in the newly arrived newspaper.

The day begins to sing

again, you play the tune I start to sense

the quest restarts

either in my meaningless work

or in my indolence.

Fair weather

I see April in the trees
right here in winter
my eyes do not leave her
smell, her sweetness
doesn’t give over
from my green ears;
whether it is freshness or heartburn
I wonder
she is adorning a strange garden
I am immured
with helpless whiteness
freezing, shivering
colors its proclivity
love allures
is she my age that's left from all the parts
years ago
trembling feet, diffident palate
crackling chest
April flows, hallucinates
gives a hand
to my melting eyes and ears
I see her inside,
with memories built in the mind
trees with white barks, tireless withering time
so stark is the whiteness, this lady’s prime.

Downpour of plough

I try to take out the words

hidden in my pages
hollow bubbles
addled, unable to fly
volumes of lifeless letters
crowded, clouded
onerously play in my organs
I know you wouldn’t overwrite your love
on written leaves
but they refuse to leave
I lie like a useless instrument
my garden, overburdened
with stillborn thoughts.

With effort, one by one,
I clear them all
so your saplings could fall
reign upon my open field
your search for emptiness
reaches my space
my senses
feel the yield
not anymore on the run
in the same soil I fly
experience fulfillment.

My annual exam is over

Winter, autumn or spring
I don’t know
Who cares! I see flowers and fruits all around
vegetables flood on the ground
I have reaped them all
a comforting weather - quiet, pristine
leaves moving; golden, green, or silver
falling or rising why bother
times
now, no more
my annual exam is over
peeling oranges in the sun
listening to birds and brooks
liberated from those
lazy letters in books
vibrant, in peace, at ease with me
nothing to prove; failed and fared many times
with flying, fading colors
now, out of the past,
I am always seasonal, to live and learn
moments of being have begun.

Sources seldom stress

Dictionaries are unaware
of what literature
in volumes of letters
have done with them
adhering to, skipping norms.

Scriptures are unfamiliar
with what religions
in numerous ways
have done with them
with or without forms.

Stars are not all there
their lights ignite,
spread the spark
but at times
left in the dark.

Conception

My lips, drunk

when it touches yours,

with words of incessant praise

my hands, drowned

in the oceans and mountains

mellow with touching organs

jaw-dropping moments

immeasurable bliss
treasures teem in travelling tongues

​​​​​​​writing many stories of love

stealing time, from time
I have become so big

my body consumes the stars

in your eyes

by leaps and bounds

I behold millions of sparks.

Only my kisses can conceive
the boon

what a glorious child

will be born of your womb.


You might as well enjoy the music by clicking here

nomads

For some
beginning of a year
awesome
full of hope, happiness, cheer
for few
it’s nothing new
resolutions lost
in framing images
promises, words

Innocuous years
come and go
writing travelogues
in time trapped
fast, slow
through travelled tracks
of titter and tears.

Changing garden

My green garden

sordid

all of a sudden

free from stony intelligence

no worries, no headaches

bound with bounties

without bonds

surrounded by stars

like currents

flowing incessant, flawless.

I am suddenly in paraspuri*

with parasnath**

in a moment

I have become parasbudhhi***

currently feelings fill the urn

fillers of lights burn

the waters of loving

most affectionate of sins

throwing up forthwith

troubling scenes

even brownie leaves fall

until there’s nothing at all

the pot that was upside down

now in a minute

changes sides of its crown

becomes full

with powerful currents

that which was filled with stones

thrown out

troubling words, definitions

possessions, positions

losing significance

meanings like healings

falling in place

my green garden

​​​​​​​golden, splendid

now full with blooming

flowers, brimming

with fruits

birds in charming trees

I am suddenly in paraspuri

with parasnath

in a moment

I have become parasbudhhi

Note:

Paraspuri* - There are two worlds but we are aware of only one world.  One world is PARASPURI and the other is KANSPURI. In other terms we can say one is Ram Rajya and the other is Raavan Rajya. Sri Krishna is the first Prince to rule the Paraspuri (Golden Age) which is of 1250 years. Kanspuri is the present age that we live in which is popularly known as Kaliyug (Kalah-Kalesh ka yug).  There is a mystery as to why it is known as PARASPURI and why today's world is known as KANSPURI.  Paraspuri means all the human beings who live in Paraspuri are as pure as Gold like Paras. Paras is known for its purity.  Therefore, all those souls who live in Satyug including Sri Krishna and Sri Radha are pure souls. Now, another mystery is that who creates this PARASPURI.  It is the Godfather SHIV who creates this paraspuri. Sri Krishna and Sri Radha are the first Prince and Princess respectively who get to rule PARASPURI.  When Sri Krishna and Sri Radha are small, they are popularly known as Sri Krishna and Sri Radha but when they grow up and their coronation (Taajposhi) takes place, their names change.
(Source: Wikipedia and the Dictionary of the Brahmakumaris)
Parasnath** – Shiv (the only one God who never comes in human form)
Parasbudhhi*** – intelligence with the bliss of Parasnath

Golden touch

I take your girdle in my hand
make a hammock and kiss the sky
the seat with the silky sand
talks to me, of dreams
lived, left
with my hands I hold the band
swing helplessly
songs play and you float
on me, with me your support
time for my golden death
has arrived, opens the gate
I can smell you, witness your gait.

I have come to a place
I didn’t know
the magical rope
freed me from my blue
without trace
tied my silence
beyond balance,
by the sea
waves hold me high
I kiss the sky
sense a golden touch with you.

Out of tune

It is spring now

even though

the long mourns

I hear

from instruments

flute, violin, guitar, piano

playing autumn, inside

memories I’d know

as green, at least remember

them as one

now changing color

full of dust,

suffocating and dull.

The winds outside

awash with bird-songs

sunrays, chirping brooks

do not notice the tired wings

of the overcast leaf;

it goes away, far away

as outcast.