Monthly Archives: November 2010

You Must Have…

The wind blows mild;
You must have inhaled it once,
For, it never has conveyed until now
Such sweet fragrance.

The clouds are agitated like kites;
You must have seen them once,
For, in such a calm clime
Wherefore do they so fast dance?

The tress are hugging each other,
You must have once sat leaning on them,
Or, why should they be
So agile & game?

The road has flowers strewn on it.
You must once have thought
Of coming through this way,
Or, why is the road with so happiness fraught?

The bird seems inject with power,
You must once have caressed it
For, the bird has flown all day
Without any want of a leafy seat.

I can’t shoo my thought-birds away;
You must have loved me once,
For, every time I want to be myself
I become you, as I get no chance.


Two Hands


Two hands

Dangling abreast-

One creamy-soft,

White, light,

Little, slender;

Other yellow dark,


At times


Each other,

Touched each other.



Constant rubbing

Resulted magnetism:

Two hands



Became a rope.

Still dangling,

But as one.


The rope

Was now home.

But, alas!

There was no place

For it.

Old ropes

Of the house


The newly made.


Left to them

They cannot separate.


Others pulled them

Different ways.

This was done

Several times.


Two hands


But, blood-anointed,

Dotted with gashes,



Two hands

Still dangle,

But at

Different places,

Far from each other.


Still remains

Is the affinity

That creates





The hands,



How they

Used to meet

To become

A rope;

Fold to become

A smaller rope


It became

A ball that rolls.

The Meaningitis

I hear the music of imagination;

The tears of the sun, the eye of the sky

I can see after a spell of shadow;

The structures of the air, highly carved,

Become clear;

I find a logical dream dancing

On the brain-floor;

The wings of perspiration I can see

Flutter and fan the skin cold;

The solidness and sharpness of liquid water

Attracts me;

The gaseous wooden leaves of unseen trees

Become the inner eyes of the dead newly born children;

Triangular wheels overthrow much-used

Polygonal-turned-round wheels;

I feel a pain, most wonderful, bathing me

From toe to my head;

The nails of my eyes scratch

On the icy hot vaporous saliva;

The grazing cats hoot

Sitting under the roots of a decomposed bathroom;

The cracked clouds of the nose

Drop on the yellow sky;

Dusty yawn hears the rockety nose

Cry in the sky;

But, but, you came close!

Answer? Are you there within me?

Why not? Why not?

Play the bamboo;

Sing the picture;

Draw the flat mind

That you conjecture.

The gills of horses

Deliver the lecture.

I request you to come

Very, very, very, very away from me!


You Are…

I have touched you; you are soft.
I have seen you; your eyes.
I have loved you; you are me.
But, I haven’t told you any lies.

Our distance will widen,
You lips I want to gloss,
The world must shrink
Lest I should be at a loss.

Your fingers on my brow;
My head on your lap;
Screened by your hair
I long for a life-long nap.

Your name echoes
Through void and concrete;
My eyes liquefy
For, I have to miss you a bit.

Let by-gones be called back.
Let me be air
Where you will breathe me in
And say, “This is fair!”

Love; that is what I have for you.
You; you are my life span.
Why must there be something else in my fate?
You are my death, you are my clan.

The Window Girl

Form the train-window
I saw the blue sky;
Patches of clouds
Competing with each other;
Birds, as free as my heat,
Flew indiscriminately.

People ran or sat or stood
On the platform;
Some also lay on rags
Happy with near ones;
Hawkers shouted.

And, out of the thin air
Came a girl at my window!
I started, unable to comprehend
Her motive.
Held she the bars
With her hands,
Looked at me
For quite a long time.

Being at odds
I smiled cautiously,
But no reply
Came from her side.
I was doubly startled
Looked at her eyes.
They were placid so!
They batted with long intervals!

But, there was the whistle
Of the departing train.
She still held the bars.
The moving train made
The beautiful-eyed girl run.
Helpless I opened her grip
And the train lost sight of her,
May be, for ever.