rana-pratap-nandi - Hello Poetry

They are leaving today, the immigrants! The road they were building is incomplete, But the trees lie uprooted , withering cupped leaves On spread out branches begging.to die. The sun is reluctant today, I ask him why. "Will you shine on me this fall?" "I will try" he said, "But you live beyond the high wall"

0

Nov 9, 2016

Nov 9, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC

Fall

They are leaving today, the immigrants! The road they were building is incomplete, But the trees lie uprooted , withering cupped leaves On spread out branches begging.to die. The sun is reluctant today, I ask him why. "Will you shine on me this fall?" "I will try" he said, "But you live beyond the high wall"

9

Dear son I am dying So you may live! I couldn't pay for your son's school fees, The deepawali sweets and crackers And your wife's saree, Nor could I buy you the500cc Enfield Bullet.I had promised. My revised pension hasn't yet come. They have told me to wait, But I know you can't. Deepawali crackers are costlier this year With the boycott of Chinese goods A big price for patriotism. My friends tell me that if I die They will turn me Into a symbol, Something very big and important. Somewhere elections are just round the corner, There will be a statue And money and job for you. They say. I must die for you to live. I have lived my life. Sorry son, I had much to say But they tell me to hurry. The facilitator has another appointment to keep If only I could go with a bullet in my heart And a few pakis at my feet And not a sip from the hemlock tree! Do not gamble with the money you get, This Deepawali, pay Dipu's fees, Buy a plot of land, Take mother to Haridwar. And yes, get the money and the job Immediately after I die, least they forget. They will promise the world. They will come, don't worry, make them pay, Insects always do when there is light. They call me I must go You live..

0

Nov 4, 2016

Nov 4, 2016 at 3:32 AM UTC

Father to son

Dear son I am dying So you may live! I couldn't pay for your son's school fees, The deepawali sweets and crackers And your wife's saree, Nor could I buy you the500cc Enfield Bullet.I had promised. My revised pension hasn't yet come. They have told me to wait, But I know you can't. Deepawali crackers are costlier this year With the boycott of Chinese goods A big price for patriotism. My friends tell me that if I die They will turn me Into a symbol, Something very big and important. Somewhere elections are just round the corner, There will be a statue And money and job for you. They say. I must die for you to live. I have lived my life. Sorry son, I had much to say But they tell me to hurry. The facilitator has another appointment to keep If only I could go with a bullet in my heart And a few pakis at my feet And not a sip from the hemlock tree! Do not gamble with the money you get, This Deepawali, pay Dipu's fees, Buy a plot of land, Take mother to Haridwar. And yes, get the money and the job Immediately after I die, least they forget. They will promise the world. They will come, don't worry, make them pay, Insects always do when there is light. They call me I must go You live..

41

I had never lived Until I had known fear. Life was a blurry rush Until fear slowed it down Very slow, For reflection And dissection. You have to fear death To cling to life sufficiently. The Count got it wrong, you see.

0

Oct 22, 2016

Oct 22, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC

Fear

I had never lived Until I had known fear. Life was a blurry rush Until fear slowed it down Very slow, For reflection And dissection. You have to fear death To cling to life sufficiently. The Count got it wrong, you see.

10

I can no longer sing They have taken my voice away I cannot write They have chopped my fingers The lies, your lies and theirs Threaten to wrench away my life. What would you do or What would you say? Debate, take out a rally, Score brownie points with friends On WhatsApp and facebook Sipping on the finest scotch. They didn't take my eyes away, Nor my legs. I can see and run Just run and run I run..

0

Oct 22, 2016

Oct 22, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC

Run

I can no longer sing They have taken my voice away I cannot write They have chopped my fingers The lies, your lies and theirs Threaten to wrench away my life. What would you do or What would you say? Debate, take out a rally, Score brownie points with friends On WhatsApp and facebook Sipping on the finest scotch. They didn't take my eyes away, Nor my legs. I can see and run Just run and run I run..

16

The old man is dead His two shadows and the apparition Looking on anxious,horrified and relieved. Finally the son is of any use Lighting the pyre emboldened by the fire Raging in his throat and belly Lived so alone with the two shadows And the apparition. But, a jolly crowd To bathe his sins and embalm his skin With ghee. Tea and *** passing hands, ***** and tobacco smoke unlocking The mind. Nephew in epiphany, discovers The soul did not escape through the mouth But through the ******* Defective death, needs prayashchit. 13 days! Too long to atone for a Life time of neglect! The kulin hands The old man chose for his only son Finally stirs, a feast for the departed soul Offered at twilight under a banyan tree By the holy bank. Ahhh! Moksha! I wonder, for whom. The apparition struggles to raise a hand, A cry, while the shadows melt away.

0

Oct 22, 2016

Oct 22, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC

The Pyre II (the old man is finally dead!)

The old man is dead His two shadows and the apparition Looking on anxious,horrified and relieved. Finally the son is of any use Lighting the pyre emboldened by the fire Raging in his throat and belly Lived so alone with the two shadows And the apparition. But, a jolly crowd To bathe his sins and embalm his skin With ghee. Tea and *** passing hands, ***** and tobacco smoke unlocking The mind. Nephew in epiphany, discovers The soul did not escape through the mouth But through the ******* Defective death, needs prayashchit. 13 days! Too long to atone for a Life time of neglect! The kulin hands The old man chose for his only son Finally stirs, a feast for the departed soul Offered at twilight under a banyan tree By the holy bank. Ahhh! Moksha! I wonder, for whom. The apparition struggles to raise a hand, A cry, while the shadows melt away.

25

I fall upon the thorns of life I bleed, But, I never was as strong as he Nor did I drink life to the lees I am happy to have my wife by my side, The child playing with me And see the baby smile. But, alas cruel fate! I have no kingdom to bequeath, Nor any spark to ignite new minds. No intended harm,nor malice, No quest for success, only peace. Destiny please don't test me, I am tired and spent, Just let me go gently into the good night. I

0

May 26, 2016

May 26, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC

let me go gently into the good night

I fall upon the thorns of life I bleed, But, I never was as strong as he Nor did I drink life to the lees I am happy to have my wife by my side, The child playing with me And see the baby smile. But, alas cruel fate! I have no kingdom to bequeath, Nor any spark to ignite new minds. No intended harm,nor malice, No quest for success, only peace. Destiny please don't test me, I am tired and spent, Just let me go gently into the good night. I

15

There is so much hope in her little heart But very little around Walmart and a credit card won't do. Crumbling hearts and crumbling homes, But steadfast hope still counts and, And a little bit of adhesive love.

0

Apr 24, 2016

Apr 24, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC

To an unknown friend.

There is so much hope in her little heart But very little around Walmart and a credit card won't do. Crumbling hearts and crumbling homes, But steadfast hope still counts and, And a little bit of adhesive love.

6

Why did you have to come And course through my dry veins Did you not know that they would catch fire Or did you just not care? Why did you creep into my dusty bones And seep into my decaying marrow Did you not know that it would catch fire Or did you just not care? These ancient ruins cannot house a sirocco The more you try to arrange the bricks The more you scatter. In your desperation to embrace the cracks There is even more chaos But still I welcome you I welcome you haha! I welcome the fire in my ***** One final roar One final hurrah! One final ******** explosion Than fading silently into oblivion, So burn me!

0

Apr 20, 2016

Apr 20, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC

since you came, burn me!

Why did you have to come And course through my dry veins Did you not know that they would catch fire Or did you just not care? Why did you creep into my dusty bones And seep into my decaying marrow Did you not know that it would catch fire Or did you just not care? These ancient ruins cannot house a sirocco The more you try to arrange the bricks The more you scatter. In your desperation to embrace the cracks There is even more chaos But still I welcome you I welcome you haha! I welcome the fire in my ***** One final roar One final hurrah! One final ******** explosion Than fading silently into oblivion, So burn me!

21

Yesterday I visited Cherrapunjee. Visited the scenes of my boyhood escapades Looked for the crooks of the trees Where we perched on exam Sundays Hidden from the sun, the warden Plucking berries with the squirrels and birds Reciting poetry and chasing apparitions. But they are gone, all gone. The beautiful huts are still there With a coat of coal and limestone dust But not the beautiful trees without. I traced the trail of the river Where as truant boys we frolicked With some fear of the master's cane And loved the half cooked picnic. Tried to find the mountain pool that once Swallowed a friend and almost me! But, there's only a faint string Among the ragged cheek bones, and where The eye was, just a dry hollow. A pound of flesh and more exacted! The mighty falls are gone and In their stead the quarries resound Rat holes and palaces jostle for space. From afar I hear old Kong Yulin Cry "How green was my valley!"

0

Mar 20, 2016

Mar 20, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC

How Green Was My Valley!

Yesterday I visited Cherrapunjee. Visited the scenes of my boyhood escapades Looked for the crooks of the trees Where we perched on exam Sundays Hidden from the sun, the warden Plucking berries with the squirrels and birds Reciting poetry and chasing apparitions. But they are gone, all gone. The beautiful huts are still there With a coat of coal and limestone dust But not the beautiful trees without. I traced the trail of the river Where as truant boys we frolicked With some fear of the master's cane And loved the half cooked picnic. Tried to find the mountain pool that once Swallowed a friend and almost me! But, there's only a faint string Among the ragged cheek bones, and where The eye was, just a dry hollow. A pound of flesh and more exacted! The mighty falls are gone and In their stead the quarries resound Rat holes and palaces jostle for space. From afar I hear old Kong Yulin Cry "How green was my valley!"

26

I am disappointed. I let you go That you may Find yourself, The sparkle in your eyes That bore through me May burn bright. The firm round beasts Taut with desire for a touch, That heaved at every breath, Every turn of my words And glance ...and I Withdrew from them, And your quivering lips. Dying each day a thousand death, Pining eternally till yesterday, Like the lover in the Grecian urn To liberate you and liberate me From the there after, routine and Mundane. To preserve the spark, Blow into it, create a new word Every moment, not be a wife Or just a husband! But creators, Challengers to Jove's throne. The fire once again stolen. Ahh..But pasted on fb what do I see! Sagging ******* dim eyes, Dead, limp locks, stable pasted smile, Dotting over a fat boy and a ***** palsy pet. Pretending to be happy with them And a glorified clerical job. I am liberated from pain, But this freedom gives no joy, Ah Mephistopheles! I scream not in agony Having lost my soul to Helen But in the absence of pain. Helena has become a fat Dull mommy cooking Noodles for fatso And ***** petty Paris.

0

Feb 29, 2016

Feb 29, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC

Ah Mephistopheles! Helena has become a mommy.

I am disappointed. I let you go That you may Find yourself, The sparkle in your eyes That bore through me May burn bright. The firm round beasts Taut with desire for a touch, That heaved at every breath, Every turn of my words And glance ...and I Withdrew from them, And your quivering lips. Dying each day a thousand death, Pining eternally till yesterday, Like the lover in the Grecian urn To liberate you and liberate me From the there after, routine and Mundane. To preserve the spark, Blow into it, create a new word Every moment, not be a wife Or just a husband! But creators, Challengers to Jove's throne. The fire once again stolen. Ahh..But pasted on fb what do I see! Sagging ******* dim eyes, Dead, limp locks, stable pasted smile, Dotting over a fat boy and a ***** palsy pet. Pretending to be happy with them And a glorified clerical job. I am liberated from pain, But this freedom gives no joy, Ah Mephistopheles! I scream not in agony Having lost my soul to Helen But in the absence of pain. Helena has become a fat Dull mommy cooking Noodles for fatso And ***** petty Paris.

41