dr-bhakti-lata
Poetry is necessary part of my self expression. I feel I am cursed to be a poet for anything that makes an impression on my heart and mind doesnt leave me until I have expressed it and resolved it in a poem. I also feel I am blessed to be a poet for once the remarkable experience or impression has been expressed in the form of a poem, my heart and mind is free of it leaving them clear as water and light as a feather!
Listen to thy heart, my dear!
Heed what it says !
Listen to it despite the din and the noise.
Listen to it even if sometimes it may make you lose your poise.
Listen to it when it cries out loud and clear.
Listen to it when it palpitates in fear.
Listen to it when it wants to dare and enjoy.
Listen to it when it wants to just play coy.
Listen to it to get a clue and to find who you are.
Listen to it to get closer to dreams that seem so afar.
Listen to thy heart, my dear!
Heed what it says!
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
i feel
so much
at home
lying
beside you.
now i know
why they say
home is
where
the heart is.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
Once upon a time
there was a kiss.
Sweet and
Sensuous.
It flowered
each time
his lips met hers
lusting for one another.
After many days and nights
the unthinkable happened.
Her lust transformed into love
that slowly and silently
killed his lust.
And ever since
her lips are
strictly prohibited from
entering the doors of his.
Killing even
the slightest chance
of the same sweet kiss.
A befitting punishment
for the crime of love!
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
all you did was
simply and slowly
run them in my hair
and lo and behold !
a waterfall
of joy burst open
inside me and
carried me awash to
depths of ecstasy
i had never been
and whilst
i was still ecstatic
i never saw the coming
of that soft
and surprising
kiss on my lips
which pulled me
out of my depths
and whirled me up
to heights of joy
that i had never seen.
all this while
simply and slowly
running them
in my hair.
how do you do it ?
this using of your fingers
like magical wands.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC
I want to dig a hole
and bury
the emotions
that rise inside me
for you
I feel sorry when
I see them swell
and rise only to
be met by a silent
stone like shore
of your heart
so I want to dig a hole
and bury the emotions
even before they swell
rise up and come
crashing down
the hole I dig would need
to be quite wide and deep
to contain the range and
depth of emotions that
arise inside me for you
the emotions which you
ignore and don't want to know
the emotions which you
feel but have learnt to un-feel
the emotions which you
browse and carefully skip
once I bury them
in the big hole that I dig
you will never be able
to see them and
will never need to ignore
or feel or skip
then it will be all clean
calm, clear and free
once I have sterilised
my conversations from
all trace of emotions
when I would have
buried them in the
biggest and widest
hole that I can dig
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
Son, you were feral to remain within your sac;
the doctor slit your mother’s perineum
and you gasp breath.
My secret to you on that day is the same
as I whisper today; be the rare
pearl but do not
couple yourself to a strand, I did not raise
you to be like me,
not one bit.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
Until yesterday
I was
unaware.
Blind.
Un-conscious
to the
power of choices
that rested within me.
All my tools and colors
were chosen by others
and
were handed over to me.
That was until yesterday !
Today is a different day !
For today I choose
the landscape
the background
the scheme of colors
the medium
the strokes of my brush.
I choose them all
to paint on the new
canvas I get handed in
each day
with consciousness and
in full awareness.
And every once in a while
I like to
pause,
stand away from it all
and
take pride
in what's shaping up to be
a Masterpiece -
the very purpose
for which the Master
created me.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 6:38 AM UTC
She would
borrow
the words from
whispering winds
She would steal
the tunes from
singing birds
and would
create
a world of
songs around her
Indifferent to
the shackles of time,
unaffected by
the fetters of fate,
she would sing
many songs
Songs of hope
songs of love
songs of joy
songs of freedom
songs of songs
Today
I saw
her wandering free,
free from fetters
shackles and all...
I saw
her singing along
with those birds
from whom she used to
steal her tunes,
and kissing the winds
that used to
lend her their words...
And I heard
the sky whisper
to the earth:
'She has
enchanted
her dreams
into life!'
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 3:47 AM UTC
Holding on to things that
at the end of the day
are sure to be left behind
Laboring away precious time
for lots of money, to pay
for escaping the grind
Wanting and seeking love
yet giving some, never
crossing the mind
Worshipping the mortal
external while to the internal
eternal beauty remaining blind
Always restless and searching
not knowing what is it
that we are looking to find
Staying trapped in such ironies
we think we are free, our world
is surely a mad house of a kind!
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
I want to dance until
my feet go sore
my anklets break free
and I faint on the floor.
I want to sing until
I lose all my senses
my lungs tear apart
and my larynx comes to
a screeching halt.
I want to laugh until
tears pour out my eyes
the darkness around me
gets dissolved in my
laughter's floodlights
and all the existing walls
shatter and break
by the sound of my guffaw.
I want to be like that
singing dancing laughing, mad woman
whom we like to stop and watch,
shake our heads in disapproval
and then secretly think –
'I wish I could be crazy like her!'
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC