One year ago
I was different then,
there was no bargain,
in full fury it did beckon,
nothing that I had bidden.
It’s will to bludgeon,
another dip in the canyon,
would it carry my burden,
tread with caution,
Of what I am not certain.
Every bud does dare, as the effort
It took to lie closed shut,
Was more painful than to blossom it took,
The dawning of a new world, right out of plain dirt,
The first light, the reward, in courage to delight.
Each grain of sand that creeps along,
Hears it's guardian angel call-'March on',
With a dream to ache, an ocean to break,
In ruthless tide's wake, never did tremble nor shake.
Watch a meteor -every atom in magnificient glow,
Rush with no fear of catching fire or falling low,
Breeze it's little spark, in a brillant blaze burn out,
Than be stifled by dry rot, to end in ashes than dust.
Vermillion- Robed Pericarpium!
As dawn’s amber-hush operas, cast orb’s subdued flames over purple hills,
As bejeweled dew’s still visitations, as amethyst- sapphire rays’ part painted canopies,
As defiant anthers spark floral fires, preside over marriage of taping vines,
As stifled water dreams in a rainbow, joins quick –silver rolling streams,
As among ambrosial saffron fruits, tinted birds mutter hosanna, runaway petals sprinkle,
As drawl of indigo skies; primrose west seeks auroral light, fireflies sparkle,
Thus he generously splashes colors, where his silence is still a noise,
To mutely appreciate, not participate, in vermillion –robed pericarpium, await his voice
[12 words=1 versex8]
Faith ! ! ! !
Is an oyster lying curled &calm,
Down at the deep sea bottom,
Conceding to none of the surface storms
To fluster its placid pink coral dream.
How remorseless the tempest that whips,
The shell that gathers the sheen,
Of the patient jewel hidden within,
In many a lost soul keeps the light burning.
Away from stone-eyes of doubt &blank misgivings,
In unrewarded Obscurity, whispers to each passing grain,
With promises of heights to attain, burns brightness in each trapped grain,
Washed in a dropp of tear, testifies not to the dust from which it came.
--Forged to outshine the rendition of stars,
Takes nothing from me,
But trains me to walk on water.
Sonnet To The Vigilante!
SONNET TO THE VIGILANTE!
My quiet vigilante, returns for a few stolen glimpses,
Like the casket of treasures on the horizon, before light vanishes,
Content with the approachable distance and suspense,
Silent tidings; never to intervene or throw a harsh word,
My heart aglow, its light on his face bygone years record,
While its reflected shadow finds me, lingers on the threshold of pride,
When he arrives my skies lit up, their light on my face mirrors
My frantic self, as he chooses to stand in the shadows.
Sit still restless heart; do not raise your dubious dust,
Let the world find its way to you through him.
Like the creamy moon gives credence to the dull earth,
Peeks between palm fronds & beyond a grey cloud rim,
Killin suspense in my hurried steps throws me in the open, meantime,
And cuts off my return. To hail him down or to abide by his time?
Song of The Cataract!
Lo, the moss cloaks away contours in unbidden evergreens,
Defiant, trees peek for that bluish speck of openness,
Coy beams flood the forest floors, in golden green frost,
Yellow lichens drape their aura, awed electric pastel birds protest,
Over its conducting spray; such was the sway of a roaring cataract.
In homage, from niches; blooms incense, toadstool steps descended,
Above, on a mossy tree bough leaning, a drab sparrow sat, drenched,
Trilling merrily in her tiny nest, hope fluttering in her breast,
Its music lost, oblivious to the thundering falls below,
Heights scaled in innocence, singing for an answering twitter,
But around the forest heard, yet, yearned not for the roar.
‘Music amidst mayhem' my father once said, struck a chord,
It sings not for the depths below but the heavens above,
There I learnt, to draw this living breath, to love so dearly, if this be love.
A Song Of Thanksgiving! ! ! !
Thanking all the Gods that humor me;
For the sun on my back
And a dream to clasp.
For the crystal brooks
In which a glimpse to grasp.
For a song in my ear
And a tune to ignore
What God didn’t put in there
All the worldly disorder,
For a friendly face to anxiously seek
The romance and the mystique,
For the sweet honeycomb,
The entire globe the deft can comb
With a wander streak.
For the twinkle in every raindropp I see,
Before it hits the dust in melancholy,
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Take Your Place!
Blame me not for too calm a face, in midst of a storm,
Baring not the turmoils within, wearing their disguises thin,
On tunes when the heart danced on the cadence of those times
With you at their helm, carrying me along, lighting- a tremor
Of your lips, before a streak of your laughter, the wind their song
Me, the free bird stranded in their shadows, seeking the solace
Of your cage, fluttering like sheaves of corn in sun's embrace,
My flag of surrender, thus wooed; how can I not let you win,
Above the din, drive away my sleep, ransack my dreams
Rob me of my world, take me captive, sweep me away,
To your shores that rock me like a cradle, on rocks so grey
My heart lit like lamps as they blow out again and again,
Let us see who shall tire and bare their naked shame
Even if you turn away your face, I shall wait on these ways
For the storm to blow, till time has come for you to take your place.
Lapdance Of The Waves!
I'm your friend! With tenacious clasps like ivy around a grizzly tree,
Renewing old ties in everything I do- draw life's succor,
Proof? While you let relentless fate stalk us, snitch a brimming year,
In resigned faith, I draw you to my craggy forlorn shore.
Where only the waves cling hands, in their bounding lap dance,
Breaking all chains, acquiesce to your ways, left to perchance?
When out of the dead wood come, crawling out -the menace,
As your boat comes and goes in its wayward ways, a mere glimpse.
There! Now I run in the raging rain with you and you know not,
On the golden sands a tear stain, and extend your hand- you may not,
Sailing thus, many a time to no avail or a bare memory do I remain?
Hear the clarion of the night wind, abysmal sea devours in disdain,
The flower's prerogative is to draw the reckless bee from erring, transcend,
Knowing, when in his path turns a blind eye, ask-Am I your blooming friend?