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 Sep 2017 Ananye Krishna
Donna
Winter days looming
With summer days now gone
I feel like autumn
Suffer from a touch of S.A.D once summer ends still mustn't grumble onwards and upwards as always x
.
The Sea and you are Sisters,
your eyes Green as she.
Her waves skip like your kisses.

Soft, rhythmic, with gentleness,
soothing my tempest.
You are daughters of the Moon.



© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
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7-5-7
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AMY
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Never eats
Until I finish
But accompany
Every
Morning walk

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~
=====================================
Dusk till dawn everyday
Addiction of affected
Memory of her touch
Soft cotton bud spreads
over my hard body, but
Rejuvenate mind and soul

The ''Me'' that can see the unseen
Touches the untouched mean
Feeling the real fragrance
Standing on the entrance
Watching the worldly core
From the inner light door

Away from the noise and pollution
Seeking real all solution
Mind watches the pure conclusion
Not depending on a life's conclusion
Living with the dust and crust
Passing test of the earth

Not thinking of salvation
Not wanting any liberation
But living with the actual relation
Nothing pain or segregation
The ''Me'' that can see unseen
Is the pure soul of Eternal screen

There is no end of wit, grace and beauty
But there is always a new beginning of duty
This sweet question is a constant link
Which reflects our attraction to Think
Song of life takes us along with the wind
From inside room to outside to go and find

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~
Once I have been to that city
the city of ritzy splendour,
of hoary grandeur,
a gargantuan pile of steel and granite.
It stood an enigma
on the banks of Hudson,
lulling the waves to sleep
in the garish light of neon bulbs
with an eternal tumult
heating up its nerves

Walking down its streets alien
scenes eerie scurried past-
Men and women-
of all climes and continents
all ethnic denominations,
all shapes, sizes and colours,
blonds, brunettes,
blacks and whites,
tourists and nomads,
in flashing styles
outlandish costumes,
tonsured, dyed
and tattooed,
on shoulders, back and chest
with bizarre shapes,
Some dressed from top to toe
many bordering on ******,
splurging with life
feverish and frenzied
speaking different dialects,
some tall, some lean, many obese
trundling down busy streets
that never go still
with sleep and awakening
but action, commotion, agitation,
where each day is an eternity
and each night- a New Year’s Eve
where business runs without pause
rife with sounds and noises -
the incessant roars of fevered minds
muffled, stifled, excited, agonized
mixing with music flowing from concert halls
merging in sounds of siren
and speeding traffic
A banal hubbub-
A hoarse discordant clamour!

I passed through avenues
where sky scrapers
huddled together on either side
where once stood the Twin Towers
stabbing into clouds –
those titanic monuments of Yankee pride,
one day raced down to Ground Zero
where terrorists wreaked havoc
and wiped thousands unwary -
still frozen in the dark memories
of that day light nightmare!

Passing down Wall Street,
the nation’s Money Mart
that spawns an industry
of ruthless dreams and fantasies,
I saw,
the mammoth Bull, charging feral
under whose crushing hooves
many fall dead
and rise again like Phoenix
or soar into indefinable heights
or bury their dreams ever
under the sod.

Broad roads that stretched endless
seemed to lose themselves
like the mazy tangle of complex minds,
and pavements
littered with a thousand moving feet
Men and women in pairs,
hand in hand,
lip to lip,
bodies entwined
seen in beaches and parks
in whose brain
Marriage- labelled an anachronism!

In these hurricane of faces
with fleeting passions
or fixations of their own
What chemistry could I discern?
A zest for life--or its absence?
A search for a life lost in living?
A fight for survival
Or
A passive surrender to the inevitable?
I do not know—
I fail to define
I fail to divine.
Here the city is described as many faceted because in New York, one can see a larger medley of men of all countries and climes and their differing fashions and fads than in any other city of the world. Here perhaps foreigners outnumber the New Yorkers! This is one of my old writes holding the raw impressions of one who felt suddenly thrown into the midst of a sea of people and cultures

When one roams through the streets of Manhattan, one can find the city racing at a maddening pace, with a never ending parade of personalities. I found it impossible to fully digest, or keep up with...but, there was indeed an underlying heart beat which pulsated fluidly and offered the very lifeblood to those who sought a cacophony of culture and creativity.  It was overwhelmingly abstract, but it extended a welcoming sign to all. At the same time one would feel so lost amid the titan towers of marble, stone, steel and glass.  This has been my experience when I.... from a semi urban town from South India with no much exposure, saw New York City for the first time!
Juba you are ******-red!
Like noon-back of the red sea,
As if Tinka and Nuer we know,
Is complexion-ly red?
But no, they are all dark,
Under weight of melanin,
Only that your guns yell deaths,
And fluvial rivulets of blood,
Afloat are fear-ridden refugees,
From a slaughter of your nation
To which you **** not,
As if you have a spare-part,
No, guns in Juba must down be
For us to talk and talk
By not listening to the echoes
Of our clans, tribes and races,
Only for our ears to ***** high
In dear audience to the agony,
In the voices of the widows,
Orphans and the starved ones
That had their trust and love
Once endowed into you
The state of Sudan in Juba,
Life is like your feet. You can go around wearing shoes all day to protect yourself from rocks, glass or other things that might  hurt you, or you can go barefooted and feel the soft moist earth beneath your feet, enjoy the cold hard concrete.  Think of this as a metaphor for your heart. If you are constantly gaurding against the pain of life you miss out on alot of of the good stuff.
the hands of time*
do tick on by
in the process years
passage quickly by

our clock's cogs
speedy of haste
there's not a spare
minute to waste

a youthful soul  
racing along
then into old age
comes a final gong

the hands of time
do tick on by
in the process years
passage quickly by

life's every moment
strikes a chime
until they reach
a conclusive prime

days on the rapid  
circuit decrease  
as momentum's lap
will so cease

the hands of time
do tick on by
in the process years
*passage quickly by
It takes a special person
To teach a child in a class
To keep his attention
In the world that moves so fast.

For every lesson you teach
And inspire us for truth
The knowledge that you give
Guides our youth.

You are that special person
You always gave your best
Since I am your student
My life is trully blessed.
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