Bangshi looked at the rolling gold before him.

Not a day would be without two square meals this year,
the surplus produce would earn him good money.

It was then his eyes fell on the thin little girl.

She belonged to somewhere else
always seeking something from the sky
showing little but her ribs jutting from dark skin
and if she ever swam her limbs in the wind
she would run up to the pond
to catch the reflections changing with the hourly light.

Her home wouldn’t see harvest this year
as her father had been ill for months
that could only mean starvation for the family.

Bangshi followed her eye to the sky
autumn blue without a speck of cloud
but for a spot of rain gathering in a corner of his eye.

What if instead of selling the surplus
he shared it with Malini’s family?

When at the peak voltage
streetlights **** the stars
and behind closed doors
rumbling slumbers
down the cries of the nocturne
awakes a world of opened windows.

Home from the last show
eyes colored with screen idols
shadows huddling over supper
talk of the length and worth
the plot intrigues and intricacies
the creator's whims and fantasies
while unbeknownst the night lengthens
tiring the shadows
that excavate the trash bin's bottom
for living through the morrow.

The filaments feel lonelier
as those last windows shut down
starlight wasted
on an enveloped town.

the boat pierced the grey mist
and her eyes were misty

it has taken us twenty years
to be on that green island
to dig up the time
she glowed like a butterfly
and I shivered from her touch

her hand is ripened now
but that time
still hanging in the air
unleashed a wildness
froth from which
spilled into two children
chasing butterflies.

Poetry is surely the finest wine
Its words most lavish *****
You get drunk with every line
By the end all sense you lose!

There’s no wine to cast more spell
Whiskey ***** gin or ***
So long in it your thoughts dwell
Soul suffers blessed delirium!

Ecstatic is the poetry’s fizz
The froth at the mouth of nib
Gushing out of passion unleashed
The kick with each falling drip!

Poetry is among the best antidotes
When I crave a drink or two
I inject its overwhelming shots
Pains melt to moistened dew!

Here the pines blush
in the cloud's embrace
the sky comes low
falls for earth's face

the winds kiss
long lines of wood
fog weaves dense
peace of solitude

Here the curves
meanders blind
on magical turns
stumbles mind

all inner demons
the high lands slay
on angel's wings
you fall love's prey.

You bring me garlands everyday,
Strung with the most delicate flowers
From your ****** garden!
Each one of them is a gem
One as beautiful as the other
Laden with your myriad emotions
Exuding your innermost thoughts
Spreading the most heavenly aromas!
I thank you, poets of the heart,
Architects of hopes and dreams,
For making me aspire for life!

In the market I'm a popular man.

So very nice they say
he doesn't even ask the price.

I'm the sellers' good mate
they decide the weight
or rather the mass,

So very kind they say
he's the buyer top class.

I'm the sellers' idol
the quote they call
I pay

So very good they say
he's our man every day.

They decide the rate
decide the weight
even the item

while my mind thinks of a poem.

He taught romance at college
She craved an iota of love from him
He dug her on nights of his choice
She echoed a deep pleasured noise
He had soon enough of her
She thought of ways to retain him
He found an admirer from his romance class
She slowly sank into depression
He pretended she didn't exist
She ceased in his nightly need
He ******* in a new romance
She broke her ties with acid.

Moonlight washed me in its white crane wing
And she didn’t know I was far away
Quietly leaving her door!

Each glistening grain spoke her pain
Cajoling me to go back to her warmth
And not court the windswept shore!

How would they know I was not there seeking love
But dig deep the earthen night
Find something more!

Something more than love
More treasurable more eternal
Waiting to be discovered in that lunar carnival!

The sea knew the secret
But the waves wouldn’t return
What’s destined as a lover’s fate!

As the night waned in hush
Dimmed the moonshine
Slowed the wind’s rush

I stood on her door
Begged her
And she took me in her warmth

She knew

*I couldn’t be far!

There is no hint of end in the air
Nothing to suggest the impermanence
The alluring sky azure and brightly fair
Only a few dropped leaves making little sense!
The smooth silence in the yellowish dark morn
Lends the temptation to be here for good
What was nascent is now quietly born
A resigned desire to stand still in the wood!
In a reality more inviting than the dream
The eyes caress the sky and then the treetop
Seeing yet not seeing in a trance made of whim
They roll down to the ground where they stop!
The trees have shed the withered leaves
Remaining dispassionate and mindless
The grand design Nature ceaselessly weaves
To renew hope and welcome new face!

like dead leaves they fall
to the scissors ruthlessly mean
some on the ground aimlessly crawl
some in the air spin!

drooping eyes rue losing them
so does the lightened head
a sigh falls for all those slain
with little chance to be remade!

quietly drop on the white linen
the slaughtered by considered choice
once nurtured upon the brain
erstwhile silken joys!

a breezy walk out in sunshine
can't take the weight off mind
somewhere inside is heard a crying
of the ones scattered behind!

Her perfume weaves a hint of tempest.

The blanket hibernating the illusive summers
lights a spark of desire.

He doesn’t open his eyes.

The smoldering fire
would bring him smell of cinders.

The cloth I gave it as cover for chill
is lying still.

Christmas eve was its last night.

Not that I knew
when picked it up
and gave it back
to the cold night.

I'm still holding it
heavy and invisible
on my heart
as my eyes repeat the scene
of crows pecking out its eyes
the head rolling on the earth
eyes closed.

I close my eyes
scared life could be so thin a thread
barely holding
and incredibly uncertain.

people that mattered didn't stay,

i begged of them not a day
or a night together,

some while,

a pause eye on eye,

hint of a smile
glimpse of a cry,

but they weren't easy,

people that mattered were too busy,

shadows moving, moved away,

while i begged of not a day
not a night together

only a while
eye on eye

to make things better.

when anger speaks
her glowing hot rose cheeks

i turn not so mean
as to lose my grin.

when her efforts fall flat
she smiles back
at this Cheshire cat.

When you are a poet
you don't place yourself on a pedestal
don't spit venomous hate
think fellow writers are dismal.

When you are a poet
you don't feel a superiority
fellow writers you gleefully berate
make yourself perversely witty.

When you are a poet
your heart is a little more wide
you don't fume and fret
readers are not on your side.

If you are a poet
you know better than to be arrogantly vain
don't carry ego's sinful weight
but let your art pour through your pen.

She loves though my offer’s delicious taste,
Pines for forest!

i give you my word neela
i'll set you free
to go back to the forest
home on the greenest tree.
the blue your eyes dream for
beyond this hole of doom
from a life you perforce endure
for comforts of a prisoner's room.
i give you my word neela
i can't take it anymore
my heart is set on setting you free
should have done it long before.
i'll love to see your aching wings soar up the tallest tree
your feathers to sing in glee wind's sweetest melody
when you glow in the sun bathe in the dewy rain
you'll forget in that morrow all of today's pain.
i give you my word neela
i'll set you free
to escape from this hole of doom
from this hell of misery.

i give you my word neela
for a small favor you must do
speak before i set you free
my lessons of a word or two.

She doesn't recite poems in the darkish sunset

like golden corns dying to be reaped
she needs a hand to cut her through
reach to where a fleshless lust is still not ember.

Seasons come and fly away.

Her own poems withering
she pines for one simple nest
to rest.

I was honing my voice
he was building his muscles
to impress our common interest.

Whenever she was at the roof
he was seen doing squats and push-ups
I was heard singing love songs
taking the notes to that high scale
where my voice invariably cracked
and his bones creaked with exercises.

The three roofs became one battlefield
where two warriors would rather die fighting
than give up the princess to the other.

One day she would smile at me
when I would extend the limit of my voice
the repertory of my vocal talent
but for reasons best known to her
the very next day she would feign
I wasn't existing on the roof
and it was all muscles her eyes got stuck into.

Then she stopped coming to the roof.

The two warriors had only each other as company
the days were never the same
for she was married off to have new interest
and having lost the race for common interest
he started singing mournful songs
and I decided it was time
to give voice to my muscles.

The passing feet
That stops before him
He greets.

Come sir stand here in peace
Get them shining at five rupees
Five minutes’ please
For just five rupees
Then, sir, go on your way
Have a nice day.

While they stand
Deftly moves his hand
Dabbing white cream
On pairs of five rupee dream
An intent drive
Rusted leather must come alive.

Then he let go free
Grabs the five rupee
Gets back his eyes on the street

*He needs many more feet to greet.

In the glass hours of morning
I am back in the lecture hall
With my uniform, bag and everything
Amid the class teacher’s frenzied roll call.
Roll no.9 she shouts out
I’m here ma’am no doubt
Me she gives a grim look
I hide my face in a book.
She rises with duster and chalk
I force on myself a silence
Pretending to hear her talk
Holding onto my brittle patience.
She goes on and on and on
Her babbles pouring like rain
Soon my defenses are all gone
Staying awake becomes a burden.
I get away into my dreamland
Far from the stiffness of rules
Where I dance holding the fairy’s hand
And there are no syllabus and schools.
My dream is so cute and cool
A freedom of endless peace
Till my ears feel the stinging pull
You’re sleeping? Shouts the Miss!

At the mid noon hour
above the cell tower
over two frolicking kite
swoops a plane on flight.

It has grazed the sky
spotless and dry
smelling ground cavorts
nigh is airport.

Amid wind's flutter
diurnal moon quarter
eyes droop to a rest
weighed with dreams' harvest.

The plane port bound
is circling on a round
waiting landing call
slowing to a crawl.

Love this time alone
up from dirt and grime
fiddling my cellphone
keying nonsense rhyme.

can't say have found it
though trying every bit
now in broken wing

an eluding greying wish
one thread of missing piece
i'm still searching.

from all the cluttered mess
doors windows address
sky and trodden ground

beg this weakening arm
to have it hold it firm
what's nowhere to be found.

from surround's all the sight
daylight darkened night
milky way and stars

seek these rolling eyes
unravel from disguise
that hidden universe.

feebled though this mind
crushed by daily grind
inching to depart

might one day lift the shroud
hear its voice speak loud
reach the mystery's heart.

Resting the mind is not easy
it dances like a sparrow
and speaks like a babbler
seeking the minutest grain
from the jungle of weeds
tweeting what it has to say
from one perch to the other
in all weather.

Then the aching wings falling slow
by the cold north wind
find no worth in the haste
seek a rest
perching upon some heart.

When unbroken silence is all it has
the mind rests easy in peace.

two sweet words and you take me to the sky
your two sweet words are for what I die
they tell me you mind me and me you care
I'm never without someone when you're there.

two sweet words and my heart you win
you truly mean them they're crystal genuine
they tell me you see me I'm stuck in your sight
when I travel the dark you'll hold me a candlelight.

two sweet words and on me you lay a claim
sweep aside my doubts turn cinders into flame
they tell me you're there whatever the cost
catch me when I'm sinking find me if I'm lost.

two sweet words with that you have me bought
set me think what I'm and forget what I'm not
they tell me there's you to brush away my pain
hold me in the sun lead me through the rain.

It was all faintly lit gloom
where her silhouette wouldn't betray
if she was sleeping or awake
amid the thick smell of disinfectant
the world debarred from the room.

I trust not one of you, she would say,
moving germs, a tribe of dirt,
that's what all of you are.

Countless times she would dress and undress
drenching herself with dettol
changed linen time and again
and her only pursuit of happiness
was denying even the closest an access
to evade disease only she knew.

Others would find in her
a diseased mind.

When she died
men were hired to burn her
and the celsius ensured
she had a germ free passage
to the next world.

My relation with her
inhabits a silent space,

you don't need to talk much
below the ocean's surface,

it's like a rest after your work is done
an earned breather after a long run.

Now it's holding hands and swimming together
having seen all the weather.

There's intense romance
in walking in the rain
under an umbrella.

It's akin to being with your girlfriend
in the rain.

My umbrella like my girlfriend is old

she has enough leaking holes
to lick my hair and face
rolling like a rivulet
reaching up to the groin
where it creates a puddle of desire
when I grab her harder
and push thru the fluid
thirsting and thrusting
like I do with my girlfriend.

But you know the best part comes
when my umbrella asks me
to throw her away
and reach the ******
as the sky cracks
to pour a blinding rain.

Making best use of the adverse weather
Road kittens and puppies grow together

The ma dog suckles the kittens orphaned
And the ma cat though wary of suckling the pups

Keeps a watch on the pups so they don’t stray too far
Besides keeping them together in the warmth of her fur

Before my eyes happen this caring effortless

Why men find it hard to care thus for happiness!

Our skins barest bare
in this long awaited retreat
we sit on adirondack chair
waves washing our feet.

We know such times are fragile
like dreams leaving at dawn
are like an imagined mile
before are breaths withdrawn!

We ponder not on what to write
not pour one word from breast
just wait for when seeping night
push the ring of flame to the west!

When one by one they come on the far
two shadows grow on the shore
we string one poem with a silken star
hearts sing in joy encore!

We let our bloods flow to the sea
our souls on sands lay bare
When new tides rise in the morn to be
find two adirondack chair!

Life is but death's glorified twin
a delirious din in the hush
our days a riddle of earthly spin
an illusory maddening rush!

Today was the morning like other days
but I cannot focus my mind just strays
the empty bowl stings with dull pain
like her would be none ever again!

I light the gas and look around
for her purr’s faintest sound
seek in air a long known smell
silky caress of a raised up tail!

Two deep blue eyes don’t beg of me
to love for love given freely
morn’s kitchen is only grey
where she haunts from yesterday!

These winter days she craved me close
if I refused lap sighed morose
softly spoke her petal face
I wouldn’t ever love you less!

She hid her away when strength failed her
beyond all eyes to quietly suffer
not let me know on what sunrise
dreaming of me she closed her eyes!

A poem a day
Keeps the doctor away
Two he may need to be called

Three poems a day
The doctor’s on his way
No way could his coming be stalled!

Four poems a day
The doctor has to stay
Five and tough is his work

If the number are six
The doctor’s in a fix
How could he stop the flying spark!

Poems by the hour
Is beyond the doctor’s power
Poems by the minute is his bane

It’s where he loses self
Badly needs a help
To be declared utterly insane!

He holds the day like duck feather.

Good or bad weather
Silver dimes or rusted nails
Through them all he quietly sails.

On the way small flowers he plucks
In thrill’s quiver sings joyous cluck
When rough tides break him he reveals not crack
Doesn’t complain when the clouds are black.

If his wings feel weary he stops the swim
A shore he finds to rest in dream
For the duck feather each day is a gain
To swim in the pond, his piece of haven.

A dog's life

On the dog the blazing sun pours
but closed are all the doors

hungry and thirsty and mad in heat
the asphalt burns his feet

Isn't there a kind heart
to see and feel his pain

to play God's part
as His will ordained?

Life without a roof

His bed is the pavement
roof the firmament

famished and sick
his pillow is a brick

people pass without a stare
if you're fine all else is fair

their sight is a shame
disreputes the city's fame

Where is God?

Full is His misery's cup
all muddled up
He has no clue

why nothing went fine
with his divine design
what to do!

Is all lost?*

Two gifts you still can feel
in your mind live their trace

to use them if you truly will
love and kindness*.

Should a primitive tribe be civilized?
Are we civilized or savage?

Leave them the aborigines to their home
in peace
their abode in the depth of forest.

But where's their abode?
we cut the jungle and made road
where would their babies be born?
in the smoke of engines blaring of horns
so hard for them to birth
on the dwindling patch of their earth
our Paleolithic ancestors' living fossils
who with iron will
fought bullets with bows and arrows
now falling by the bullies of progress
begging for last living space.

Leave them the way they lived so long
unspoiled with their own education and culture
let them retain their own way of life
and not make them civilized the way we are.

The kingfisher knocks to call me
friend of you I do beg
make some time from poetry
find me a place to lay an egg.

My nuggets of small oval white
where to put them kind soul
where to find one good site
on some wall a small hole.

This summer the ponds are dry
my eyes are weary with watch
futile my desperate try
to pull out my hunger's catch.

Now I hardly ever sing
hold a mouthful in the beak
dying is the blue on my wing
I'm growing lean and weak.

Friend make a try to save me
our habitats are on the shrink
make some time from poetry
save us from falling over the brink.

The kingfisher knocks on my door
of you friend I do beg
if you want to see us anymore
find me a place to lay an egg.

It’s a perfectly golden day
she isn’t loving you less
no obstacle on your way
eating up your space

though fine on surface
you feel inside unrest
of a sighing emptiness
weighing on your chest!

There’s a wind blowing strong
no speck clouds the blue
your ears get birdsong
and you don’t have a clue

what stirs the ache
that finds no easy heal
but for you to break
lose strength of will!

The petals burst in bloom
crowned in sprightly leaves
yet shrouded in gloom
you wonder why heart grieves!

Huddled in the lantern light
they sing of life and death
of love long lost but living
in the ashes of time
a yearning for home
walking the long roads sunburnt
in blistered feet
in the knowledge
healing of pain
is only a rain away
and life is too short
but never too short
to bathe in the power of god
that makes a pauper
be a king
under the canopy of stars.

One little footstep and you reach beyond the fence
And see the unknown world touching your sense
There on the ****** soil softly land your feet
In a world unexplored you were so keen to meet.
One little footstep and you fly above the fence
In one magic leap to a remote distance
There on the untrodden path lie great secrets
Unseen spectacles and unheard sonnets.
One little footstep and you reach beyond the fence
To reach the mountain top and the ocean’s silence
Rise high and delve deep for the most precious find
That lies hidden down there inside your mind.

Don’t come to the cemetery at night* Peter Xalxo would say
If you are so inclined make your visits in the day
For often in the evening when exam worries were gone
I would go to the cemetery and sit on some tombstone.

I think boy the ones from the other world make visits at nights
And they would not love to find living souls upon their sights
Why intrude their peaceful home and not leave them there alone
When the time after the sunset they think to exclusively own!

Having said this with a grave face he would lower his voice still low
While on nightly posts at the graves I’ve seen in the dark some glow
And at moonlit nights on duty’s round heard footsteps around me
I would advise boy not to step into at night at the cemetery.

He used to tell more such tales to instill in the boy some fear
But come the next evening and at the cemetery I would reappear
For I loved the moon bathed solitude the trees’ darkened shed
The tranquility of the place in quiet company of the dead!

All said I wouldn’t leave out in this account one truthful fact
Uncle Peter’s stories had some effect some impact
They colored my times at the cemetery spent at nights alone
I seemed to feel they were moving the graves’ marble stone.

Then one night as I was coming out around nine o’clock
To my horror found the gate closed with an iron lock
Bewildered I stood there knowing no other ways to go
When there appeared a shadow heard the voice of Peter Xalxo.

I told you boy not to loiter here not disturb their peace of night
This ground here the dead walks now though beyond your sight
Run home and never come back his voice in whisper talked
Some more words he mumbled before got the gate unlocked.

That night at the dinner table my father told mom this
He was such a good man and a great friend to miss
But God only decides in his garden which flower to pluck
Peter Xalxo died this evening suffered a heart attack.

A kid I was when on way to school I caught her pretty face
Fell for her can’t call it love the sweet girl in school dress
She stood on her door a beauty of yore waiting for the bus
My limbs went limp grew butterfly wings she was my childhood crush.

I thought she knew felt it was my due flew me a bewitching smile
Waved her hands and knowing my mind she looked at me awhile
Each day on that way as I passed by her I caught in her eyes a gleam
Read in her waves a bridging of hearts in her smile an unfathomable dream.

No ordinary path it was a dream walk for nothing I could miss out the chance
To have a glimpse of her catch those moments forever get lost in strange romance
The ******* the door she made my spirit soar she was close yet a distant star
Took me on fancy flight her smiles glowing bright the child could never touch her.

I set myself a rule not to take break from school but to pass everyday by her
It’s no wonder some things last forever some memories with time never blur
She my whim’s fair red ribbon in her hair stood there in her white skirt
A petite white dove radiating precious love she enamored the little boy’s heart.

In the lost years’ light burns a patch bright where shines her unearthly face
A girl in her teen not aging always green occupying a permanent space
I don’t have of her anything more to remember what remains is so divine
The girl in her teen could be thirteen or fourteen and I was a boy of nine.

Each couple is stopped on the way
this March spring hour
with the city attired at its best
with gulmohar and flame of the forest
in mad bloom of yellow and red
and the hand touches each head
adorned with the season's flower

blessed be your love
blessed be your luck

and most of them yielded
to the blessings of the ******!

suppose you aren't assured of the next meal
upon your head rules the sky
maggots are feeding on your free will
better seems the option to die.

suppose you've none to give company
not a soul to call your own
days seem to crawl with no hurry
nights only make you more alone.

suppose open road is where you stay
sometimes a tree to beat the sun
people are bent on moving away
you've no home for day-end run.

suppose you've nothing called privacy
can't afford the luxury of shame
you relieve yourself for all to see
don't recall if you ever had a name.

suppose you've to scavenge from dustbin
your dignity is trampled like road's dirt
could they all make you feel a poem within
write a line crystalline in your heart?

To be honest
I don't want to leave
but on my door
the eviction notice
ruins my peace.

You have nothing worthwhile to show
any extension is warranted.

Instead of making good use
you dug up all the excuse
flawlessly lame
in shifting the blame
not giving a penny to the thought
you contributed to the rot
if only by thinking selfishly
the cause was outside you
and the remedy beyond you.

In another two days
I'm shifting to a new home
and you bet
I won't change my trait.

He skims the haze of the day
like a cat seeking its food
prowling lane alleyway
to find you in bitter mood.

On your door the unwelcome guest
you would not call him to stay
with him time is a waste
he would better be shooed away.

You hate when he starts to speak
his sunburned face is a bore
must cut him short pretty quick
behind him close the door.

Like you are nine of ten
but he knows his job is done
is rewarded all his pain
if he can charm just one.

The one that ears lends
a carer who knows well
how it greatly depends
a family on one sale.