The monsoon cloud swooped low
to **** her
and the night seemed to wear
the darkest cloak

Three miles down south
she had gone to the weekly haat
for half a litre of earth oil
thru mud as thick as her desire
for a small glow in her thatched hut

When she reached the stream
she paused on the brink
and then like an added note
to the music of rain
her swan little frame
glided to the other bank

The wind was shivering
but she was warm in the dream of
one small light in her home
to **** the demon of dark

I strained to hear her whisper

ears impervious
heart envious

if only rewind of years
could get me beside her
reliving the ecstasy on a lover's date

*listening her lips' precious secret!

She was gasping for air
And left this morn.
I had to brush my teeth,
She was in the mirror
And in my eyes.
I had to sip my tea,
She was with me
Plunging deeper with every sip.
All through the rituals
She kept clinging to me
With every motion
The grasp was tighter.
I went out to face the day
And there she was in the sun,
In the air, all over me.
She was a guest in my world,
A few moments' find,
Leaving echoes in my mind!

Two dogs
On the street
Locked in mating heat.

On the street
Two dogs
Haven’t cover of sheet.

Two dogs
Messy
Need no privacy.

Know to seed
The need to breed
In ecstasy.

His voice cracks in the thunder’s peal
My ego failed me in life’s each deal
Never did see what the other saw
Too blind to notice my own flaw!

In the candlelight his face wears a gloom
Two tremulous shadows darken the room
Forever I felt the world is for me
My viewpoints matter only!

Like a deluge pours the thunderous rain
In deafening din rattling windowpane
Focused only me only tried to get
***** in void now when egos abate!

Flickers a grave loss in his dulled eyes
Unshackled from self its obdurate disguise
*Over the ruins of ego is born in me the belief
The reward is not in the getting but lies in all our give!

Hunger is gnawing your stomach
The time when food is must
Don’t let in your faith a crack
One breach in your trust!

It’s there for you to eat
Away by an inch a peck
In haste don’t call it quit
Be not afraid of your neck!

Beckons you the golden cheese
Bowel’s curing remedy
It waits for your final wish
To be set from hunger free!

A little pull is all you need
Just a little force
Howling hunger needs the feed
You have no other recourse!

Come mouse got nothing to lose
You’re hungry or you’re dead
Either way hangs the noose
your escape is that way made!

In the twilight hour
We reached the watch tower

The swinging trunks had got our smell
And one could tell
They weren't pleased

We had just intruded into their dust bath
Post the shower at the pool
Between us the distance
Was one of studied silence
Till one's trumpet froze me to the ground

From among the trees
Big little mud hills surrounded the space

Our clicking lens
Wore out their patience
And we were just nuts
Before that large herd

Some more were coming up the river
We heard someone whisper
And I thought of rebellious elephants
Fighting for territory once their own
Against an invader that spares none

What if this dwindling day hour
They crush the watch tower!

There's so much prose in this world
Yet poetry finds its way out of your heart
Deep inside you is an island of emerald
Where the other you refuses to depart.
There's so much prose in this world
Yet you look for light from the pit
You let your dreams be unfurled
To turn the bitter to sweet.
There's so much prose in this world
Yet in you lives an undying child
That breathes in the island of emerald
Keeps you untamed and wild!

I longed one kind look from you emlan
when you passed by me
now I wish to sit in silence
with you by the sea.

A stolen glance was all I did
when passed your fragrance
too little of you was all my need
I knew to keep distance.

If our paths meet ever again
if ever can dead love rise
I would not let you pass by
but look deep in your eyes.

There must still survive the ****** land
longing rivers dried in sands
unspoken words woefully shy
chance lost with time gone by.

If we now come across emlan in the faraway land
I would not shy away to reach and touch your hand
walk this time on the quested path not letting go the chance
of finding you in the wholeness and not as a passing fragrance.

Back from work,
Each object within
I take out from my bag,
Once again putting them in
The next day to work.

Nothing unusual about it
Except that at times
When I empty my bag,
A fleeting thought comes,
Maybe tomorrow
My bag will be as empty
As the space I vacate.

For long she hasn’t found an empty home.

Not that she loves empty home
But craves for her some loneliness
A little time and space all to herself
Where she wouldn’t have to wear a face
But bite her mind any what way she likes
Nibbling at memories chewing on dreams
That with no eyes around her
She would take out like a stolen artifact
Cherishing their display like forbidden
Crying laughing and then putting them back
To where they belong.

Not that she loves empty home.

But sometimes she needs
To have one her own.

That’s a sad story sighed the man
Sitting some stairs down the ghat
Made his life miserable the woman
She fully broke the zamindar’s heart.

He loved her more than his life
She knew not love was what thing
Cursed the day he took her as his wife
Gave her a precious diamond ring.

He bought her each wish from her lip
She knew she would only have to tell
For her the man’s love was so deep
He could sell him to bring her all jewels.

For each night she made her bargain
Trapped him her greed’s deadly deal
Blind love drove the man such insane
He became a puppet of her will.

The coming storm he couldn’t foresee
Enamored in love and its waste
Good money was sunk freely
With no reaping of scantest harvest.

His trade started suffering huge loss
Investments sunk in shipwreck
Along came to make the matter worse
Debts’ tightened noose on his neck.

Soon she left with a man she had known
Taking with her the ornaments
She had never thought him as her man
Little did she care his torments.

Still echoes said the man his cry
From here he went to the river
In evenings as this his sigh
Can be heard rending the air.

I asked him how all these he knew
Saw no man but I was alone
Shivering in winter’s cool dew
As moonlight on waves quietly shone.

From the mother's breast
It landed in prison
It was a different nest
For it without reason!
It had not grown wing
Sky was a distant dream
They wanted it to sing
They and their strange whim!
Controlled by alien hands
It sought the mother's warmth
Surrendering to odd demands
Hiding sorrow in a forced mirth!
There was no way it could sing
Joy was barred by walls and ceiling
It had only a fragment of sky,
a grieving heart, mournful sigh!
Then one day opened the cage
It was free from all *******
‘Is it faking death? ' said someone
Never knowing its freedom was won!

Mew mew
Pussycat cries at night
Closed doors
There isn’t warmth at sight

Mew mew
Is there any kind soul
Crackling fire burning coal?

Mew mew
Under open sky
Like pussycat many more lie
For them is spread no bed
On pavement dream tomorrow’s bread

Mew mew
Cold night’s curse
Doors shut no kind soul
Far up blinking stars
Glow like burning coal

Noses in blissful snore
Won’t ever get to feel
The misery preying outdoor
The knifing ruthless chill

Mew mew
Not awake one kind soul
Doors are all shut tight
Crackles no fire in burning coal
Pussycat cries for end of night

Knowing it hasn’t a cure,
My madness
She lovingly endures.

Now determined in this conclusion

*I won't take anymore sermon.

You reflect in befuddled wonder
is it the time to be happy or morose
when is reached that page of calendar
where the year comes to a close.

There isn't much you could do about it
there isn't much you could hold
you tried though your every bit
not all pages were written in gold.

It's enough if you remained fit and agile
it's enough if you got a few smiles
it's enough if you could travel all the miles
you stumbled but walked all the while.

It's enough if you hid some of your pain
your bleeding you kept to yourself
it's enough if once without thinking of gain
you offered a stranger your help.

Little you could do to change the events' course
but you tried and it matters no less
it's enough if you've used your little resource
to make this world a better place.

your behavior is ******, she writes to him,
you're a boar, without a cure,

my good ant Anna often asks me,
how the hail i except you,

she says you belong to that banned of men
that effect a woman's life badly

she also suspects you of elicit affairs
goes on to ad you are to me not fare
and we too don't make a good pare

its about time we go our own weigh
since we don't feet each other at all.

i'm sorry though
i had to pain you this heartful later

but bitter swoon than letter.

p.s. thank god i mate the man who scares and laughs me more than you.

Sitting there on the lap
He claps when the audiences clap
On him painted an aura of happiness
A smile is permanently fixed on his face.
Eyes forever stretched without a frown
He plays to the gallery a perfect clown
You may envy his easygoing ways
Gathering laughter on all that he says,
His widely open unblinking eyes
That show faked emotions feigned surprise.
You may like to have his rapturous nights
Drawing applauses hogging limelight
But you would have pity for him once you know
He’s a talking doll in the ventriloquist’s show.

It hung in the air
Hallucinated a while
And died like a smile!
Was it ever there,
This marvel
When I dreamed my lips
Touched her navel!

the girl lived downstairs
the boy two floors above
through me exchanged letters
of immature hearts in love.

he wrote:

can we meet love for a minute?

handed to me his secret chit
why I came down the girl only knew
his letter brought her a blushing pink hue!

quickly on that same chit
she scribbled a hand girly sweet

she wrote:

I would die to meet you just once
but today there hardly is a chance
papa hasn't gone to office
through this letter I send you my kiss.

I, love's tender messenger
went up with her love letter
as he read it heaved a deep sigh

at home, *******, why?

he wrote:

slip out when he sleeps at three
we meet under the mahogany tree
please love do this much for me
I beg you some minutes only.

thus rhymed two hearts' dancing beat
the boy was too young to fathom it
nothing though he could understand
yet faithfully he ran their errand!

The white canvas
Is mute
Till I draw
Escape route!

Watch their belly
their dying eyes
know all my talks of wisdom
are my escapes in disguise!

If I had littlest shame
and a belief in the claim
I'm humane

I would not have let them stray
but killed them with the bullet's spray!

If I can't help them live
if their numbers I don't contain
if letting them be there is no gain
why not **** the stray with the bullet's spray?

I move around with a bowl of rice
small hand small bowl teeming mouth
in the blind belief
if I try

*some of them may still not die!

when i last met her
her ******* were bursting with seeds
her thighs plump as stems of plantain
and when in the December sun
she dried her hair behind the acacia
i dreamed of lying with her on the grass
drunk in the moaning song from her navel
till the evening drove us cold and old
and darkness stole her flesh from my eyes
and it's almost December again
as she walks with my hands in her
along the field after crop
just tugging my hand once to stop
delicately drawing from her breast
an Agfa snap of two unreal people
in the most unlikely place
looking awestruck into the lens
passing into the evening light
before leaving me halfway
of her cottage and a home.

Lost first love to immaturity,

remain immature

what a pity!

Around me is dying another day
silently falling in surge of emotion
in the mournful dirge of the dusk
dropping on the black drongo
flying home in dream of dawn
beneath the first star of twilight
blushing in the kiss of sky
heralding another earth evening
celebrating death in the dire need of
resuscitating life.

Love is majorly one sided seeks not a reciprocate
our love may not be returned that's far we can hope to get
though it is thus often destined love knocks the wrong address
don't lose heart for we were right we showed no miserliness.

If one way it's our way we have no other choice
love's fountain when springs listens to no other voice
our call if goes unresponded not touch the heart meant for
we deserved it for we loved never expecting a returned favor.

We may break time and again each time our love is spurned
but our act of loving never goes astray if not once returned
no way can we decide the course have no say in the matter of heart
we have to have the belief in us when we make from our side a start.

With your bottom resting on me
you roam the world of poetry
display spectrum of your poetic mood
ever bothered about this piece of wood?

I hold your frame over day and night
weight of your spirit soaring to height
your struggle to find in all only good
ever bothered about this piece of wood?

I rest your arms on my armrest
for your comfort I do my best
see you don't fall when in deep brood
ever bothered about this piece of wood?

For years my touch has kept you at peace
carried you safe seated with ease
when empty yawns the space I stood
is it then you would realize worth of my wood?

We see it
As a victory
Of the human spirit,
Tales of glory
That makes us proud.
But it’s a pity
She’s denuded bare,
Ravaged her virginity,
And up there
There’s a crowd.
The height is made to pale,
They’re dwarfing the peak,
Adventurers on glory’s trail
Litter the path they scale.
We take it as a test
Of man’s superior might
That would not rest
Till it scales the greatest height.
But the mountain is no more clean,
Tons of wastes scar its air,
She’s turned into a dustbin
By the crowd going up there.
Should we feel proud,
And not hear the warning bell,
As the mountain is trodden like hell
By the mindlessly adventuring crowd?

Every time you light up
Light goes off!

Longing lungs
Hoping hearts
For you suffer.

You don’t care about you
Let not your view
Derange other lives
Even your children
Your wife!

Every time you light up
I don’t care about you.

Let not your exhalations
Choke longing lungs
Hoping hearts

Hurt other lives!

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.

In the narrowest of lanes
I found the sweet shop.

Behind dusty crumbling glasses
dozed the old keeper
smelling of sugar, milk and sweat
over fossils of Paleolithic sweets
on a time machine from the century
he never was
to a millennium he doesn't bother about
clinging onto clay by pottery
not succumbing to synthetic
counting not on android
but accounting on parchment
with the art of finger's arithmetic
most intricately scribbled with pencil
announcing progress is a trouble
not designed for the simple
and contentment has no more nitty-gritty
than price and quantity.

Over his head
spiders worked and reworked
from the ceiling to the glass
as have been doing
since Carboniferous.

No ifs and buts and frets on time gone astray
We were exactly where supposed to be each day.

We were exactly at the right place with right face
Not drifting around but knocking the right address.

No ifs and buts and frets deeming years as waste
We were exactly on the right track doing our best.

We were exactly picking of all the choices the choice
Not straying but staying to listen to our inner voice.

Mr Deek

when needs to speak

can't hold his length.

With only a lifetime to behold

*waste no time pondering.

had it run just straight
with no turn on either side
we all would surely fret
life is such a boring ride

life is so dully made
that's all we would say
the road is clearly laid
same looks every day

no bumps and no holes
sharp bends of surprise
the way blandly rolls
we don't fall and rise

thank god ain't so made
life has twist and turn
in search of what's ahead
we persist with the run.

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?

Easier revealing face of my mind
than revealing my face!

The almond pearls bounce on the leaves,
Drip to drench me with the heavenly boon,
What magical transformation the sky weaves,
Its wands of clouds creating another monsoon!
There's though a different spell on the ground
Where water flows like a river in high tide,
Silence broken only by a splashing sound
Monstrous holes yawning on all side!
You longed for it in the summer's pain
Hallucinating in agony the coming of it
You curse it now calling it a bane
As it pours from above and deluge the street!

in the land of the white
live too the black men
apparently with equal right
but with covert disdain.

why couldn't the world be one place
when we are all from common gene
where humanity is the only race
across the color of skin.

in the land of the black
live too the white men
apparently of the same pack
but on a different plane.

why couldn't the world be one landmass
when we rose from one origin
where being humane is the only class
across the color of skin.

in the land of the white
live the white men
among them aren't equal right
exist disparity and disdain.

why couldn't the world be one unit
when together we all once had been
where brotherhood is boldly writ
across the color of skin.

in the land of the black
live the black men
among them oneness they lack
the inequalities still remain.*

why couldn't the world be one creed
where mankind lives as one kin
the white and the black can only read
love across the color of skin.

For long there’s no rain, for long
The dying soil stretches its tongue
Towards the firmament, begging on its knees
‘Rain, come rain, even if a little, please’!
It’s eons since the clouds squeezed out
The last drops, knowing they’re all in vain
No yield would come of them, no sprout
Horrified they wilted to be never back again!

The race progressed with their grim toil
Forgetting rain is born in the soil
Dreaming of a distant thunder
Yearning the clouds to come asunder!

My grandpa told me a fairytale
That once on earth the rain fell
It washed the body and made souls clean
Lives shot up to make the earth green!

His feet washed in the breaking waves
stands the faceless recorder of memories.
As glistens clean
seawashed skins of honeymooners
he waits for one call
to preserve those moments
only if when the tides fall
later years would recall
from the prints of that time
shadows of a yore
of being together on the seashore!

Don't venture too far he whispers
none can fathom high tide's curse
before is lived one lovely day
monsters from deep carry you away.

Don't venture beyond help
he mutters as if to himself
*if only you knew awaits what burn
when spend yourself the tides turn!

Don't go lovers too deep
I too drowned in faith's leap
with faith in love rode tide high
in the sands buried those dreams lie!

Reason burns the prime
leaves in their cinders no solace
for one likely answer are a hundred questions
where crumbling bones can’t have the will
to climb anymore the rungs endless.

Finds beneath feet a resting ground
that in glimmer of hope abound
a tunnel light an emerging design
to craft from chaos a face divine.

Utters a prayer that’s never too late
succumbs blissfully to the savior the faith.

He is held captive you needn’t farther search
In temple’s precincts within the walls of church
God is a prisoner in religion’s domain
They flock there to worship him men and women.
As I see them I get this impression
They’ve struck a deal forged a relation
One that is need based apparently mutual
God provides care in exchange of ritual.
At the cost of sounding atheist I must say I notice
Churches and temples are organized like office
Hierarchies are set in these god’s abodes
Complete with rules regulations and codes.
In each of these god-houses is a god’s messenger
He is the supreme priest faith’s treasurer
He leads your prayer cleanses your soul
Becomes god’s face assumes the divine’s role.
The followers don’t question their faith inhibited
Asking and probing questions are strictly prohibited
I feel places of worship are too stern and rigid
Where in the hands of his caretakers god goes frigid!