"barsha" poems
Mai bhav suchi un bhavo ki
jo bike sada hi bin tole
Tanhai hu har us khat ki
jo padha gya h bin khole..
Har aanshu ko har patthar tak
pahuchane ki laachar huk
Mai sahaj arth un sabdo ka
jo sune gye h bin bole..
Jo kabhi nahi barsha khul kar
har uss badal ka paani hu
Lav-Kush ki teer bina gaye
Sita ki Ram kahani hu..
Ki jinke sapno ke Taj -Mahal
ban ne se pahle tut gaye
Jin haatho me do haath kabhi
aane se pahle chut gaye
Dharti par jinke khone aur
paane ki ajab kahani h
Kishmat ki devi maan gye
par pranay devta ruth gaye..
Mai maili chadar wale uss
Kabira ki amrit vaani hu
Lav-Kush ki teer bina gaye
Sita ki raam kahani hu..
Kuch kahte hai mai sikha hu
apne jakhmo ko khud see kar
Kuch jaan gaye mai hashta hu
bhitar bhitar aanshu peekar..
Kuch kahte hai mai virodh se
uppji ek khuddar vijay
Kuch kahte hai mai marta hu
khud me jeekar khud me markar..
Leekin mai har chaturai ki
sochi samjhi naadani hu
Lav-Kush ki teer bina gaye
Sita ki Ram kahani hu
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
These waves of wind
Travelling through those wintry forest
Are now suffused with venoms,
'Cause my love!
It now carries no longer
Thy musky fragrance;
That makes my heart
Gulp those dregs of blood-
Festooning the pale white sockets
Of these myopic eyes,
That has shared those brief moments with sorrow,
While love was transmuted
Into torrent of agonizing agony,
By the venomous stings of treacherous destiny.
Ah! This web of life
Has weaved this barreness of pain
For this baby *****
That makes me burn myself
Like the incense of patience
To redolent my bed of existence
With the hankering of death,
Till it gets entombed by my silenced grave.
©Barsha Kumar
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
Tomorrow,
The streaks of light
Of the ruly sun,
Will pierce the cottony clouds
Again,
And they'll have
Some uncountable cold bodies
Bathed in blood,
Festooning those parched roads,
Again,
Whom they'll welcome
Again,
With:
Seared throat- choked with grief
Lacerated hearts- bleeding pain
And with,
Shivering bodies, where fear has pinned itself-
With helplessness,
In every single pore of their barren skin,
To witness this naked dance of inhumanity
And the nefarious slaughter of humanity!
©Barsha Kumar
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 4:23 PM UTC
I write,
To free the burden --
Of this burdening existence,
From mine existence.
But, Alas!,
My ink is cursed.
My pen is rural.
And
My wits..
My wits are illiterate.
Still,
I write.
I burn myself.
I rise.
I write.
©Barsha kumar
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC