Much adored is the dead poet

Within the glass case
Away from dirt
Amongst the books pressed
Rests his heart

Such was the silence he dreamed
When words streamed
Like riverine flow
In all might arose
Seeking the order in chaos

Orderly bound now his name
In peace standing behind wooden frame
Yet with the ceaseless commotion of wait...

Much adored rests the dead poet.

Where the river meanders for the sky’s embrace
Her lovelorn bank pines in the banyan’s shade
Blue ripples sing to soothe her travel’s stress
Lay me when all poems are dead in my head.

Write me an epitaph here rests the river poet
Who loved the cotton clouds mirrored on her breast
As her tides rose high laden with desire’s weight
He broke away from chains to madly sail her crest.

Where shines the moon makes the lover’s pathway
Flows quiet the river in her waves shadows sway
Night heron’s feet kiss her soft feathered bed
Lay me in silence when all poems are dead.

Lay me soft down make for me a space
On her alluvial soil in her riverine grace
In her diurnal shine and night’s saline kiss
The river poet would find his eternal peace.

Had I been a poet river born
Flowed at ebbs to the sea
Fed on her shores fields of corn
On her face etched the sky gaily!

Had I been a poet river bred
Rode her waves of lunar tide
Kissed her bank in cool summer shade
And never ever left her side!

I would have grown a love riverine
For all lives feeding on her breast
Fishes shrimps the dolly dolphin
***** turtles and the rest!

One moonlit night when she rose high
Drowned me in her beauteous wine
In a feathery drop on her bed I would lie
Breathing river poet’s one last line!

Ants march to their empire
With the crumbs of giants
Along a riverine path
Sinuous like the forest nymphs.
The leaves gossip with winds
From Earth’s four corners,
Tales of how the mighty have
Fallen to the tides of change.
Fate sisters are dead, no longer
Can they tickle the fickle threads
Which orderly suspend the universe.
Streams of chance revitalize
The mundane gray horizons
That blanket industrial visions,
Where nails and hammers make
Love to each other, the mechanical
Euphoria erecting shanty towers
Bending to the gravity of need.
Pallid faces are mass produced
In the land of milk and honey.
They said this is where dreams
Were born from black ashes,
Yet only meek weeds were able
To sprout in such parched air.
An awakening is imminent,
Whispered the winds to the leaves.
The youth will fertilize the scorched
Earth with soft, tolerant hands.
Callouses will peel off with the
Soothing touch of promise, as
The old dead skin rides the dust.

Shout like a mockingjay
Fire up your life away
Ricochet everything
Our life is a bliss

We can’t feel pumped away
So we dance ourselves tonight
Under the riverine bridge of our wishes
U and I, we are like lovers from the sky
Abandoned, running away,
Fix the broken hearts again,
Sync our lives once again
Blow out the candle of hatred
Open the curtains to the world
And shout it out away

Living as actors
Making the way through the stage
Feeling Joie de vivre
I know that we cannot live twice away
Shining like the sand
lose , empty, numb again
U and I clash inside
Our words mixed like magic
Shattered like glass bottles
We will dance our hearts out…….

Clear waters running
Playing notes, percussion stones
Nature’s symphonies.

Why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,
Is it okay to be alone with so many thoughts,
Or is it insane to be thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about... thoughts.

Why should it rhyme, why should it make sense,
To puke out chaotic cognition, should one really need pretence?
Afar they go, shivers and shudders they bring back,
Comprehend it, recollect it, don't lose track,

And yet, for a moment here, time and space have warped,
The roles are exchanged, the laws have snapped,
When the mind has leaped whereas the heart has harped,
But the body remains, in a web of questions it’s trapped,

So, why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,

A humming is heard, an esoteric rant,
The riverine sound of verses being chanted,
It pours in like there is no end,
Capacity for infinite, but grasp is limited,

Holding on to horror and knowledge at the same time,
Pulled from both sides, it’s like being ripped apart,
Letting go is hard as weakness yields to curiosity,
To fall and rise is what’s left inside, drunken oscillations of the divine,

So, why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,

To make it stop, to once more see through the eyes,
Stop struggling, and melt all desires,
Feeling is gone; the tips of fingers are cold,
Welcome back, to the “living world”!!

And ask again, just one more time,
That, why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,

Where the stardust sky kisses the black river
lies the hermit’s hut.

he lives there alone.

sleeping and waking with the tides
soaked in riverine dew
bathed in southerly rain
mellowed in winter’s shallow sun,

without love..

but for his cat

that unbeknown to him
sinks for his love
dying quiet death of dream

in the black river brimming with fish!

I am home to the twilight candour,
greenish glamour of the lake below
shimmers in restless ****** thunder,
the white splashes in youthful splendour.

I am crowned with the sun's dusky ruse,
golden galore on the plethora of pine above
in contrast with deepening darkness under,
seeking a wand of wonder to port the cruise.

Chirping spring entwines fragrant coriander
emerald water kisses those shamrock shores
seaweed shades hug the valleys by the lake,
fantasy and reality blend in riverine meander.

The nook of ravishing rendezvous resides
right at this heaven that hides from you and I,
lotus petal like eyes sweeten the salt in sea,
after the storm like a shelter the land smiles.

Cloudless nights,
Melodious breeze,
With stars above,
And the riverine delight,
Moonlight visible,
With a doze of winds,
Pavement shining,
With a reflection,
Of the night sky,
Shadows of the stars,
Similar to a disco light,
As if shining a song,
With full tone of happiness,
And carefree sight!!

Royal ruse of exotic glue
you skillfully brush
with your exquisite touch,
an adroit riverine Antarctic chill
enticingly relishing a spinal spin
lashes on the purplish Euphrates.

The violet sky at the fringes
darkening with the spree to mingle
to dive into the depth of a deeper shade
where the black and red connected
with a yellowish vermilion thread,
blooms a romantic ruby roof of brinjal hue.

Yellowish edges hugging the flamboyant red
before me unfolds the recipe to win friends
serenity soaked economic cacophony
in quest of political coup d'etat
steaming caffeine in a cool platinum evening
warm breeze shelling these shivering palms.

The delightful dawn craves to curve the lips
in semblance of a seamless smile
wrapped in bougainvillea
a window opens behind
bowing before the riverine road,
violence in a violin voyage
fades into the violet void.

Grace galore as the divine Rhine
in a distant quest dances ruthless
rushing fast towards her adolescent lust.