When Love Surges
when love for you surges
tearing away the several layers
it's concealed in within
it lifts me to a consciousness
never before visited...
it chokes me
it teases me
finally settles directing me
to gather you to my bosom as
a mother gathers her infant
to feed and pacify and to lose
herself in the calmness that follows
filling her heart with contentment
that can only manifest as
an angelic smile on her
sweetly wearied countenance...
28oct2010
20.14hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A Poem of Rain-Days and Rain-Nights
Rain-days are funny
Funnier, rain-nights
The sky assumes
All grey, black and purple
Streaks of lightning
Brighten the sky's
Dark chambers...
As it rains outside
As rain alone pleases,
An hitherto unknown warmth
Spreads through my body.
I rush outside to cool myself
And lo, rain stops
As rain alone can, abruptly,
Callous to the burning insides
To settle for themselves
Rain-days are temperamental
Rain-nights, lonely and desolate...
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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September, the cruellest of months
The dragon flies stage
An apology of a dance
To the reverberating coarseness
The parched leaves throw
Into the vacuous space
The frail fatigued feathers
Droop under a blazing sun
They keep flying
A bare sky and an equally
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Hey...spring Again!
the veil of fog
gets thinner and thinner
the seasonal flowers
lose their color
as the sun's chariot
gets rolled as it should
the koel fills the ears
with its cooing fed on
the tender mango-flower
that renders more sweetness
to a voice already sweeter
every vegetation begins to breathe
resurrecting life once again
after sluggish winter
birds chirp
bees buzz
hearts long
as spring slowly unfolds
its drama of desire
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Your Eyes
in the seas of your eyes
i see the reflection of
the sun rise and
the sun set
at the same time
i also see the sparkling high tide
of a full-moon night
and splinters of glassy waves
of a bright summer day
i see the mysterious depths
of the sea i can never negotiate
hidden behind the fluidy veil
that protects the whites of your eyes
i stroll along
the enigmatic
sands of your shore
at all times of the day
and the night
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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From the biography of an unknown woman: XLI
01 dec 1951
...me a myth
you a mithya
isn't all that between us
a simple naught?
22 jan 1954
...what does the wave
pull back with it?
sand or emptiness
shared between us?
31 jan 1954
why should i search for you
in the darkness you left behind?
after all i grew up and was groomed
without you till i met you....
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Across the Lake Unto the Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Across The Lake Unto The Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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O, Curtain Boy...my Curtain Boy!
i'm the stage
i'm the setting
i'm the play
i'm the actor
i'm the green room, too
but how's it you kept
the command ove the
curtain in your hands?
o, curtain boy!
my curtain boy...
don't you see
the stage's developing cracks?
the setting's getting ruined?
the lines're getting broken?
the actor's growing weary?
the greenroom floor is all smudged
with the colours of spent out emotions?
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Tick-Tack-Toe, Round I go...
A collective dirge rose
From the conglomerate
Of sterile wombs
Where do the still-born
Get buried in the narrowing
Graveyards of shrinking mind-scapes?
What distinguishes a still-born dream
From a still-born babe remains
A question forever unanswered
The dirge circles around the ears
Like a mosquito in the dead of night
The potted body loses its sensitivity
Sterility multiplies on make-believe beds
The dirge rings loud and clear
In every conceivable corner!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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