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  Oct 2015 Sourodeep
Ananya Nagar
तुम्हारे होने का अहसास
मुझे जीवित रखता है ...
क्यूंकि
मैं जिंदा हूँ  ....


टूटी रीढ़ की हड्डी ...
बैसाखी के सहारे चलती
इस काया  को संभाले
आगे बढ़ता मैं
क्यूंकि
मैं जिंदा हूँ  .....


तुम मुझे कुचल दो  ...
तुम मुझे अंधेरो में
कच्चे पथरीले रास्तो पे
अकेला छोड़ दो ...
जहां मैं खुद को भूल जाऊं ....
अँधियारा गहरा पाऊं
फिर भी कहूँगा ये .....
मैं जिंदा हूँ ......



तुमसे बिछड कर
मुझे सांस लेना मुश्किल लगता है ....
फिर भी
बस तुम्हारे लिए


मैं जिंदा हूँ .......
  Oct 2015 Sourodeep
bones
When I am old
and still alive
like embers in the ashes I
will burn the hands
of all who try
to tidy up too soon...
Sourodeep Oct 2015
I choose to walk on this arid rocky road
I sometimes forget where I belong,
in this haziness of unsettled dust
my heart filled with fear all along

Just round the corner I felt
someone somewhere called me,
I realized the turns I had not dealt
have now become an unavoidable trap.

No, I never feared the uphill
life is a struggle, with honesty by your side,
but sometimes things go against your will
mountains crumble and you don't know how to slide.

I believe that day has come near
when a strange smoke will engulf me
and images will start to become clear
and I will know I have reached the end.
Many things happen daily and we tend to pass them, some tend to stick with us and some just falls away. I wonder what waits for me in the future and how it will effect my life.
  Oct 2015 Sourodeep
Elisa Maria Argiro
I am thinking about newly-hatched sea turtles,
and about how perfectly formed they are.

And about how, with independent instinct,
they head straight for the open ocean.

In our dream worlds,
where convention holds no sway,
we do the same.

Left to our own unencumbered instincts,
and when we are rested and happy,
we make choices that nourish our souls,
and the souls of those around us.

Finding a point of origin,
and finding where we belong,
are two sides of the selfsame coin.

Trundling into the sea of our own authenticity
may seem too simple, lacking in choice.

It is our bravest, most definitive act.

As vital to our real survival,
as to those tiny beings,
who innocently do as they must.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Cinnamon and black grey
breaks the summer's doze
the voice gives away
it's sitting somewhere close.

The shade of a mango tree
that rests the wings from sun
breaks the day busy
to a lonely space for one.

In its eyes black bead dark
solitude wears a skin
a sadness makes its mark
of a silent cry within.

It dips beak deep for preens
cleanse that's daily a chore
another day quick spins
shadows are longer more.
a bird native to the Indian subcontinent.
inspired by one such lonely bird on a mango tree.
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