You, Yesterday and I
Yesterday wasn't just another day
There the earth moved on its axis
There the sun appeared on time
There the moon blinked at the sun
Yet yesterday wasn't another day
The passion we shared yesterday
Doesn't make it just another yesterday
The yesterday's warmth of your eyes
That traced all my nuances
The yesterday's breeze that touched me
After it touched you
The yesterday's redness of my lips
That you so fondly painted
The yesterday's voyage on sea of love
That we together dared
The yesterday's purple of love
That I found after you left
All these and more of yesterday
Still follow me today...
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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As The Lord Is Ensconced In His Chariot…
o, lord
let thy trundling wheels
crush this ego ridden
chariot of empty bones
of shallow dreams
of lecherous lust
***
o, jagannadh
this bag of flesh
sags under the weight
of uncommon greed
***
squash this clay mould
of imperfection
you moulded more out of habit
in a fleeting
wink of disinterestedness
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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In A Far Away Land
At times
In a fleeting moment
I let go myself of
My travails, trials, tribulations
My fears, my doubts
To ride on a stallion of courage
In its smooth photo finish stride
All of me known to you and me
Get disjointed
In that no man’s land
Where the stallion stops for a breather
I throw myself into your open arms
No, the land has no moon
No stars, no gentle breeze
Honeyed words or rainbows
It’s a land strangely bereft of
All these I so far imagined
And associated with you and me
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Freedom And I
many a time i wonder
what's freedom is all about
the world and i
are so much obsessed
that when freedom does dawn
it's hardly ever discerned
pity, chained to the idea, the idea
in itself is taken for freedom
what's freedom worth when
in its name we collectively
and individually cling to that
misrepresented ideology?
when we spend last dropp of energy
in defending a clinging ideology?
can we ever free our clinging selves
from the chain
of grief
of bonds
within and without
and the resultant nightmares
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Chemistry of Poetry
do you remember
the strange language
the sky spoke that night
as we engrossed ourselves
in each other in a corner
of the balcony to the southwest?
curious of the blabber
the crescent peeped
from nowhere
hey, let's sail
in that crescent boat
on waves of ripened
milky moonlight,
i proposed
be reasonable
isn't it incongrous
you said fondly
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poem by Indira Babbellapati (04 June 2009)
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Hark, It's Green!
Few evenings before
It's all dry branches
I even counted them
As a doctor while reading an x-ray
The koel too settled uneasily on them
The next morning
I could recognize though hazily
Small dots of green
The koel pecking at
Lo, the following morning
The denuded tree
Through my window
Turned green overnight!
What more,
It now also has a sack of honey bees
Securely clinging to it
The incessant cooing
Lightening the drab campus
And filling my ears
Now, today when my inadvertent eyes
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Blind Me
every word he spoke
was dipped in conviction
every nuisance of the body
spoke of his resolve
he sat on the other side
the questions rolled
and he matched each with equal grit
said shakespeare remains
his all time favourite
no, he didn't say a word
about milton...
said he's marvelled
at the deepest perception
of life that he found
in the great bard and
quoted some pertinent lines
to validate his statement
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Umbilical Connect
the umbilical chord's
severed to let me be
to know my 'self'
and ever since
i continue to struggle
but even while it's intact
you knew your 'self'
for you're blessed with
the wisdom to unravel
the ever intriguing
birth and death
while the chord nurtured you...
what blessed soul must have
descended to bless my womb
is that all i owed you
nurturing you within
the confines
of my womb...
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A Chance Rendezvous
On a day when the sun's chariot
Is picking its momentum and
The night still exhaling cool
Dampness on the day's pricking skin
Sitting under an open sky I slip
Into an indescribable stupor
The melody of your thoughts
Transport me into...
'Inda! ' I hear a voice as if
I were sitting in a deep well
'Lift your head and take a look, '
My son's voice I hear from
Two floors down with his eyes skyward
I reluctantly raise my lashes
More to obey my young master
There my eyes catch a mild
Reddish shine on the easterly sky
With well defined angles:
Mars, the unrelenting war god
Stood majestic on a lonely field
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Poetry N Me
i've no vocabulary
only emotion
when i say i'm as fragile
as an egg
i say that after
i become an egg
if i say i'm a touch-me-not
i become a touch-me-not
before i say that
when i say i' m a heap of ashes
i reduce myself to a heap
before i say that
so many forms do i assume
before i say i'm that-
a ripple
a speck of light
a cave
a tear
a rain drop
the sky
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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