Images And Shadow Of Love

Some unsaid
To be alive I do not need a life
Gift me a few of your smiles
Paint me and my moments with your touches
for a little while.
I shall be alive beyond life
I shall be alive beyond death

To make you my companion
I do not need miles.
Walk upon my shores on a sunrise and a sunset
Hold my hand under the blossoming of a moon light
for a little while.
I shall carry you forever beyond roads
I shall carry you forever beyond departures

Little said, some unsaid

Somehow, I know from the winds
You are not going to be mine

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poem by Aman Saa
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Defining Dots

In this flow of all things uncertain
Let a dot be defined to its deep
All things that I found when left me
rolling into my age
The enigma of time
questioning the truth of many lies
All is it yet roaming with garments of emptiness
A truth is to be veiled if a truth is to be said

I have heard your voice
But your words speak in melody of silence
Yesterday sometimes bridges routes to today
with ages longer than us
We have vowed to be lost travelers
and our purpose is fulfilled
in the turning lanes of birth and life

The last touch have not yet lost
To live with as breath is conquered
As long as the fight goes on

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poem by Aman Saa
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Portrait Of A Stranger

For a little while I wanted to wander between two roads
Save my fear
I may fall
in love with my two selves
in two roads... and with
divided love I may roam forever
which but I wanted for a little while
a little while forever perhaps is truly rare
A glimpse of your dance
like marching drops of monsoon rain

I wanted to paint your eyes once
And draw out of it your tear drop,
islet of your pain.
Which flows like smiling rays.
Save my fear
making you smile may become my only joy
and in black and white
I end up painting your eyes
and keep wondering whether they held

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poem by Aman Saa
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In The Silent Waves

One day things began to change and like winds they flew away
All the letters, drenched with the unshed tears, unadressed
from the secret caves of the heart

Between the sailors soul and the sail
I stand ruminating with the movements of the cradle
One day the funerals of my dreams
were staged in the bosom of love and bonding
vaster than the night sea.
I am still from then so often, my own finding and losing.
The palms were of love and memories are of despair
One holds the other with such compassion and yet,
and yet both are close strangers.
The story of eternal sorrow, was wriiten
in the redness of my heart,
and thereafter what belonged to me is a silent shadow
of a lost lover
and sunset is my history and and the glory of my solitude
blended and aged as with the flanks of time

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poem by Aman Saa
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Anonymous song

Let me find my way.

Without being a synonym

There must be name for my name

As I have roamed many a road

As I have floated inside the retina of many a heart

Beside me many vendors have sold my old pain

And children have walked away with their delights

All the while I lay showcased with the same old night

In the palms of my dreams, still the same silent and infinite.

I walked all the circles and many times stumbled

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poem by Aman Saa
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Unconscious

Curtains are these, of shadows

and memories. Fervent play

of eyes as those pearls move

hide and seek and their essay of essence

prevails over all secrets...

curtains are these

There are some distances

which oil lamps will shy to show

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poem by Aman Saa
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Homecoming Of A Wanderer (To Bhupen Hazarika)

He returned home through the same village roads,
Some morning declaring his fight against time and its tides,
through which he had gone.
Declaring miles and miles of road shorter than his dreams through which he had gone..
Declaring himself anonymous and wanderer and leaving promises of returning winner.
through which he had gone,,,
He returned.

On his return, the village road saw the same villager and he returned on the same wheels of his dreams
And those dreams were still full of life.
On his return but he was no longer an anonymous, he earned a name which could travel boundaries of land, river, ocean and time as well..
And when he returned he was no longer a wanderer for everywhere he went he left a mark of the river of his village where he belonged and now he owned a home in thousands heart
On his return he was no longer a wanderer

He returned through the same village roads
but not without gifts of eternity..
gifts from the zenith of human limits,,
gifts of pride and honour,,
gifts of travelling the roads of life,,
larger than travelled by any one ever,,,

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poem by Aman Saa
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Your Old Diary

In the first page you had written
I loved to weep
One day I wept seeing the hunger
In a street dogs face...
The other day seeing the will to fly
Kissing the pages of sky
In the ink of the wings of a bird inside a cage
And one day when i knew that I am growing young
I asked if you wanted to be a child always

In the other I saw you had written
I wanted to fall in love
I looked for it every where
Every second of my youth, in the winds of spring and autumn
In the fleets of unseen ships carrying distant dreams
In the waves they upon which they travel
Even in the petals of roses kept for sale
I asked how many times you fooled yourself

Around the last pages painted your ink-

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poem by Aman Saa
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she and he- one day, somewhere...(part-I)

we have differences she said.
He-even twins have, , , roses and thorns too have
but since times unknown they have been lovers, , ,
She- there in our between a river exists that you cannot swim, , I won't try.
He- no river is ever longer than its bridge, , ,
She- you write yourself… I do not know poems
He-only thing about my poems I feel is they can never be known..
She -I do not even understand..
He- if anything is ever meant to be understood, its not poem, , ,
She- I am a owner of a lively life, , , u said you have many times died…
He- the closest one to life is probably death, , ,
She- I never feel you, ,
He- you have fulfilled me…
She-I have to go,

I will be incomplete forever, ,
try to forget me, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

And he saw the coming of a morning less night as
She walked away with her dying shadow..

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poem by Aman Saa
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I

I am the son of my village, ,
I am born in the dreams of my father
and my childhood is his craft,
and the blossoming of my mother's garden.
So, often in my journey the fragrances of my village soil nourish me,
the messages of my mother hug me
and I draw warmth.....

I am the definition of my dreams, , ,
dreams those are birth less, ,
dreams ageless, ,
dreams those are indifferent to failure and success..
dreams those can decorate each of life's blank page, , ,

I am my best companion, , ,
Though I cannot hold my own hands, ,
I am my only guide, ,
In each of my failure and victory, ,
I have taken guard and declared to them they
aren't important to me more than myself...

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poem by Aman Saa
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