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  Feb 2018 vamsi sai mohan
PC classic
the morning light tides in
through the window
and searches the house
for it's semblance
and gently dims back
into streetlights

I existed

like a stone
or the wall
or the clock hanging on the wall
moving with time
not lending much disturbance
to it

Some days are like
wrinkled metaphors
inside
a trash can
  Nov 2015 vamsi sai mohan
Sana
The absence of stillness is time. Time and stillness cannot coexist. Time is never your present for as you spell your very moment, it has already become your past. Make haste or sleep, but do not waste the energy of "unstill", you owe it to Nature.
Last thought just before drifting off to sleep
vamsi sai mohan May 2015
"I age an eternity a moment,an eternity that is fleeting in a moment and you imbue the impermanence with your seraphic presence."

I am sitting under this tree whose leaves sway in circles like my memories fading into myself;
yet alone a few memories resist this disintegration,resisting the frailty of the life.one of those memories whispers your voice and how you said "father,I have a wish",the tone sweeter than the voice of the ocean,when you are about to sleep and it's your bed-time story for me,you continue saying,"I want to live in the sky and be an angel who floats on the clouds,when I want to swing I would bend the rainbow into the oonjal and with every swing I hit the clouds so hard that it becomes so ecstatic and produces a roar.when I want to come to the earth,I come like a lightening which tickles the earth....."
I love how you sleep in the middle of the story and how your voice slowly disintegrates into the silence like how you didn't say "now I take this sound and whisper it in this ear and you are going to bury in your heart, this sound that emanated from me and buried in you could resonate with billion galaxies".

Do you remember this is the tree under which we used to play with the mud,you used to pour the water in the sand and cover the leg with the mud till the ankle and staunch it immobile for a certain period and when you suddenly remove the foot,it assumes the shape of your foot which looks like igloo.I love how you break the igloos that is when you try to fit your head in to its mouth in the obliviousness that it would break because your head is too big to fit in,I love how the specks of silt get struck in the strands of your hair.

Every subtle detail here becomes enormously exquisite and with every utterance I am drowned with the memories to a point of singular abstract thought.perhaps in the next life,I wish to born as your child because I want to spend my childhood in your lap,I have to live those moments when you lift me up and put me on your shoulders and pat my head till I sleep,that is the part of my life in which I have missed you and I will claim and live it....

I still remember reading your short story and the male character in the story says something like "there is no brightness without darkness and you are the darkness,perhaps when you die,the sun,the moon and the stars would miss their light shedding upon you,but I am the one who will be devoid of the darkness that which creates the very ambience for this life,that which creates this inimitable life..."I wonder what it means sometimes and what made you to think to write something like that,that which produces an inseperable thought..and I think I am too old now to contemplate on what it means......


The tree and I sit on this light-shed early morning ,I think every particle of light which is reflecting from me now shares my memory,so I suppose I spread this reminiscence all over this place,all that is seen and unseen shares our memories....it baffles me at the very thought that every experience we indulge in reflects on the very existence itself.... I take your voice wherever I go and live,it's like a plugin to my heart and you always whisper from within me,even now,It's 6:30 now and I hear you saying "close your eyes",I close my eyes and fade into the echoes of your voice.transcedence.

"She is like a lightening passing now through me like a tickle and so do I perceive every form of limitation as a transcendence..."
  May 2015 vamsi sai mohan
Onoma
~The  way  things  change
imperceptibly...
may  not  be  distinct
from  a  phenomenal  rate
of  change...
the  same  river  is
running  toward  the  Ocean,
yet  has  reached  it.
This  is  why  nothing  can
truly  be  Known  but
Love~
  May 2015 vamsi sai mohan
Onoma
As every direction goes on for good...
so one can stop and notice the
directionless--
desire needs plenty of room.
There's no placing this world,
it refuses comparison...as
all-we-know informs all-we-know.
Fiercely independent, this towering
light, this towering dark,
that bathes our private corner
of understanding...
premonitions of peace when nothing
comes to light but Light.
vamsi sai mohan Feb 2015
Even in the feeblest attempts of discovering the self,
I am immersed in the sheer beauty of this life...
  Feb 2015 vamsi sai mohan
Onoma
...You, dearest vagary, aplomb--were
brought to bear.
Vicissitude of memory which is the
dispersion of identity.
Of a time, and of a place--you, a
mellifluous bronze dusk poured upon
a meadow, a solitary immersion, a
moment that harnesses the whole of
the earth, as you are...dearest vagary.
You were afforded as by the citizenry
of the air, lent by an intercontinental
wind.
An undying eloquence featured for all
time--the swaying bud blown to bloom.
You...the beautification of possibility,
its matrices never left in want.
As in withstanding place the round is
made, and remade about you, the whole
of the earth.
Thus, you've no confounding words...
have you?
Thus, this sidelong expenditure that you may--
shall breach the earth you shall.
*A poem to the "Pregnant Point".
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