Thursday, 21 April 2016

[Poem] I search

Image by: HelgaMcL

I search for him
In smiles strange
In hands extended -I search
For the one touch

Rummaging
Through words that fall of alien lips

Sifting through tones
I search for The Voice

In the light of a thousand eyes
I scour
For the look that delights

In the gloom of the night
When dreams walk free
I hunt for reunion

In slideshows of memories
That collapse and rise
In constant auto play
I search

Tears pry open
Crumpled eyes
Sluice gates
Rise
To release
The misery
Threatening to explode
A tormented heart

Loss teaches love
Alas, when all is lost

Tuesday, 12 April 2016

[Poem] Jouissance


I unfurl
Ungather
Unravel
A knotted self
  With scissors sometimes
 In music
In dance
 In moon tide
I lie awash in the waves
Or glide on the breeze
Till my wings burn

Into the fire I go
I step in, recoil, step in again
Over coals
Till my toes burn
The tingle of an ice cube
On an expectant tongue
Shuddering fingertips
Running over ice
The tremble and the shiver
Of cascading cold water

Rafting the rapids
Scaling mountains
Diving oceans
Planking the wind
My body arched
My curves
Pulsate to release
To transcend

I am
Always in search
Of the essence
The ineffable
Jouissance

Sunday, 10 April 2016

[Poem] Inquietude

My listless quill rummages an empty pot
Gravelly scratches stain the sheets in stone age toil
Heart in turmoil
Infants still born- fall to the ground

In the stony void life stirs and dies
Insipid the wind
Kites fall limp 
Wailing

Meandering a maze
in a daze
Words clump and eddy in muddled drains 
A dread most foul engulfs
As words stutter, stall
 Flutter away in the wind

Despair is a frozen mind on a pathless road.

Image sourced from the internet

Friday, 8 April 2016

[Poem] Heroine-ism

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 This is a story poem inspired by a real incident that took place in an African village, in a civil war, where a mother had the cruel choice of pitting her child's life against the life of 20 other people and she chose to leave her infant in the hands of god to save the lives of the people of her village.

The terrorists went on a rampage
Wrecking carnage
Spraying bullets like a can of paint
Civilians fell without complaint

In the silence after the storm
The cry of an infant echoed in the distance
The captain signaled his troops to silence
Feet advanced in the stillness
Hate advanced without a conscience
To the shack within a clearance

A Foot in boots kicked open the door
Hoping to find forms huddled
For more target practice
The captain so loved to see
Fear filled eyes of his victims to be

But upon the straw strewn floor
In the centre of the hovel
Lay an infant splaying its arms and feet 

‘Shall I kill it?’ asked a minion
‘No! let it be’ said the captain
‘Its mother thought to save it
Let it die now safe and slow'
In demonic laughter retreated
The gory retinue

The straw on the floor moved
And one by one twenty forms emerged
The mother ran in anxiety
To clutch and comfort her baby
Her eyes streaming in guilt
In vain she had tried to silence it
In the balance hung other lives
The mother made a monstrous choice

To save her brethren at any rate
She left her baby in the hands of fate
Oh how her poor heart did chafe
At leaving her precious bundle unsafe
She prayed that her infant be spared
And perhaps heaven’s heart was moved
The infant lived
And so does she 
In the hearts of the many she saved 

Image sourced from the internet.

Thursday, 7 April 2016

[Poem] Grief

On Dec 23 2015, a BSF plane crashed within 5 minutes after takeoff  killing all 10 on board including 2 pilots and 8 technicians. The pilot detected a snag in the 21 year old plane, but was told to ignore it by the ground control.
For more details please visit:  http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/All-10-on-board-killed-as-BSF-aircraft-crashes-outside-IGI-Airport/articleshow/50290568.cms


A daughter asks
Why?
Why did you let my father die
Why did you make him ride
An old rickety plane?

Repeating the question
Shaking the stone faced official
 Her throat dry
Her voice hoarse
Eyes streaming
Squeezing out every drop from her body
No one answers
Of what use the answers?

Her father
 Will never return 

 TV crews shoot
Ten tales of ten homes
Their humble facades
Once happy now scarred for life
An uncle who was an inspiration has died
A baby all of two months old
Too young to know the enormity of its loss
An inert bundle in its inert mother's arms

Wives whipped by shock
A heartrending spectacle
Of a son's vigorous slaps
To awaken his mother
Her glazed eyes
Reveal
A face bereft of life

Ten lives lost in all of ten minutes
The inquiries will come
So the commissions
Public funds
Will once more line coffers
Rich with perjury

The press will move to other stories
Leaving the families alone to grieve
They will recall
 In cruel time warp
How ten men set out one morning
With smiling faces
Carrying lunch boxes
With modest meals
For another day at work
And how cruel apathy
Tightened the screws
Of their coffin in the skies

The pathos of a vacuous pleading
Refuses to leave my head

Image: The Hindu Online

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

[Poem] Fame

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Aim high
Writes the bored school teacher
 In your note book

Strive hard
Make a mark
Says dad

Touch the pinnacle
Bless the womb
That housed you
Says mum

Or
Orphaned
Shamed
Neglected
Zeal is born of the ashes

Some seek fame
Fame seeks some

So the arduous climb begins
Many fall by the way side
Some go relentlessly on
The fight is on
It’s a marathon
And you are your own
Referee

But the spot at the top
Isn’t all that rosy
It is just frenzy, tizzy,
Anxiety

Yes, there are thrills
The ego swells
Warm, the embrace of public gaze
The pleasure of recognition
Spears and spurs The One

Later though, it thaws
Privacy it robs
Robs dignity
Steals friends
All it stokes is jealousy

In the sad pursuit of distinction
Lives have gone into extinction

Acidic fame consumes its own
When the aura dies
It tightens the noose
Upon the recluse
When fame fades
Life is a mere charade
One is often driven
His death to hasten

So why seek fame?
When your destruction
 Is its aim?
Image source: Internet

Tuesday, 5 April 2016

[Poem] Evenings in Summer


 

Evenings are best
When birds return to roost
Flying stretch marked skies with orange lesions
The shadows thicken
The earth looks new
In the indigo hue

In the fading sunlight
A truant cold emerges kissing parched skins
The slightest breeze
Gives the coldest thrill
The sea winks
At the dying day

Children fill homes with tired laughter
Smells rush out of kitchens unbidden
For trained nostrils to discern

Summer evenings are best
A cold shower’s tingling
 Fools us into believing that winter is here

Twilights are the best
When unshaded eyes feast
Upon cloud-streaked skies,
Emerging stars
And a shameful moon

Flowers unfurl
To trade their fragrances
The muskrose, the lily and the jasmine
Climbing woodbine the senses entwine

Yes evenings are best
Half smiles and hidden glances
Singe the senses
Mild intimacy
Blinds,
Evoking the daze
Of a night of embrace

Image: From the internet

Sunday, 3 April 2016

[Poem] Did Ever Anyone Thwart Him?


The Dark Knight walks
Dark is his mantle
Misty his breath
Blending into the shadows
Sweeping across the land
Pitchfork in hand
Mowing, hauling
The withered and the thriving
With each strike

A twister- swirling
Storming
Gathering
Mopping up agitated dust motes
Like an industrial cleaner

Sometimes he creeps in
On stealth mode, a panther
 Dangling a rope then changing his tack
Leering 
Licking lips in anticipation
As icy hands inch to crush

White becomes black
Black becomes white again

I have seen boundless love grow cold
Anguish oust hope
Hate replace warmth
Doubt supplant faith

And the tears rain down
squeezed from hearts gone dry
Broken twigs toss about in despair
Driftwood and flotsam desperate for anchor.

Image source: The internet

[Poem] Chisel

The Maker kneads, shapes and chisels
With loving hands
Smiling at His handiwork, he lowers
His creation in to the world of men

She will have a smile that stirs the human heart
Her soft voice will please a tired ear
The ministrations of her gentle hands will provide succour-
Many shall rest in the shade of her heart

She is a fawn that dances
Lightly on the morning air,
She is the whale that rides the ocean of her dreams;
She is the dove that coos at the ramparts of the firmament,
She is gentle, soft, pliable and oh so vulnerable...

So they tell me...

Play with your dolls child
Deck yourself up in jewels and clothes
Keep yourself indoors - no muscles, no tan
I shall weave you tales of fairy lands
Where handsome lads shall pledge romance
Just sing and dance and look pretty

So they tell me...

 Kneaded, shaped, chiseled
A pliable mind and body 
At the cruel hands of Reality
Crumples,withers, wilts,
 Ironically doesn't have the guts
To school daughters into Independence

 Hope swoops in and scoops
Ferrying fools to Purgatory.

Friday, 1 April 2016

[Poem] Breakthrough

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Beaten by noises the senses weaken
Children at play
Music from a few houses away
A television’s uproar
vapourize in, through barred window(s)
Assaulted by
 Pounding rains
Telephone rings
Mail alerts
Whatsapp pops
Messenger pings
Twitter trammels
The writer writes
Ofttimes pure drivel
I lock a gregarious me
In a tower of black and white 
Immured, however late the hour
To unlock, unleash a tale
 For the world to devour
Like a solitary hermit
I withdraw
I cede my share of delight
I plunder personal time
Combat exhaustion and sleep
No ties with the world is too deep
Friends can wait, so can family
At the Altar of Perfection
In the service of fiction
The first heads to roll
Are sadly the closest
Tagged a narcissistic self-centered anarchist- 
 I am, but a simple misunderstood idealist.