Trapped
A
curious butterfly,
like
an inquisitive thinker,
peeped
into a deep cavity,
of
a pitcher plant.
The
unanswered question-
was
of paradise and hell.
Unaware
of dangerous results,
trapped in a pitfall,
lured
by visual bribes ,it was
grooved
into a slippery way,
never
to come out from the darkness.
It
slowly drowned in gloomy tartarus,
consumed
by the rapists of soul,
ceaselessly
supplying nourishment,
through
its bleeding heart.
First
Published In Inklings Anthology
I am not a Pied Piper
I walk with trail of rats
They crawl, wiggle, their tails.
I do not hypnotize.
I do not know road to river.
Break the row!
Take diverse routes
Run salivating tongues into books.
There is a race above the trenches
To observe
Be lab-rats!
Even the blind did not tag along!
First published in scaling Heights anthology
Trail
I
walk on shimmering sand
Barefoot;
leaving trail of love
A
distance is crossed Miles to be covered
Green
waves strike descending feet
To
deluge foot prints
I
don’t quench my thirst
Longing
is beautiful
My
wet feet carry
Your
quintessence
I
go and go, like perpetual gyration
Leaving
traces on you
First
Published In Reflections Issue 92
The
Past
Rotten
morsels of past
In
her nails
Uncombed
tales
in
her tresses
Bleeding
lesions
On
her chapped lips
Awry
spectacle
Hanging
unassisted
Spine-tingling
image
In
mirror distorted
Cursed
curtains hiding
Doomed
details
Single
peeping hole
Was
narrating a scary story
Once
a famous star, she is
Now
breathing a dying glory
First
Published In Negative Suck
SAPLING
A
small sapling was so happy in innocuous surrounding
Till
it was abducted to adjust into some other bounding
It
was fixed into that unknown destination
And
asked to flourish making all new relation
The
tender stalk suffer native’s separation
And
establish itself away from foundation
It
grew into a small plant but leaves became pale
And
could not excel on new gardener’s scale
It
was abused for its old roots
And
for not bearing good fruits
This
thought today gives me great distress
Away
from us would she be blessed?
Would
she be taken care with kindness in hearts?
Or
would she go through many darts?
Why
should she migrate to terminus unknown?
Can’t
she grow where it was sown?
Would
anyone ask for her desire?
Or
world would once again conspire?
First
Published In Nivasini Anthology (celebrating India )
The
Last Dance
O
hot saint!! Ignorant, I was living in mental trance
You
mesmerized me with just one divine glance
Sitting
far in long deep meditation
You
have already reached salvation
I
was so much fascinated by your godly charm
The
orange nimbus around you, seemed like healing balm
I
began to dance madly, endlessly for you
Decorating
myself with shining drops of morning dew
Depicting
passions of soul with cosmic expression
Clearly
showing my obsession with every emotion
I
splashed my feet in every ocean
And
swirled on poles with total devotion
Standing
higher in space encircled by glittering stars
I
took in my palms the cold, red Mars
Rolling
it on my body, on Venus I stepped
The
hot volcanic lava under my feet, I neglected
Purifying
myself with more and more heat
I
prepared myself to meet the elite
Spinning
faster than the earthy rotation
I
was dancing just on silent cosmic vibration
I
moved further, determined to end my plight
Cosmic
energy was manifesting bliss with divine light
Crossing
Mercury in haste to reach the brightest
Crazily
dancing till end before my final rest
Spinning
and spinning I merged into the hottest saint
Leaving
behind every barrier, bar or restraint
Attaining
truth, leaving behind state of trance
My
consciousness was awakened with this last dance
First Published In Reflections October 2012
And
she sings the same song again
Under
the lamp post
where
there is no house;
she
has a home.
Her
forefinger often draws
a
swastika on ash that rests
in
the quiet hearth.
The
earthen pot placed besides it
waits
for a day.
She
ignores the parade that passes by
shouting
slogans for the forthcoming election.
Unfolding
the half eaten foiled bread
she
gives it to her son to nosh and sings,
"Look
at the uncle moon in the sky!
Tomorrow
he will bring us packs of pies and fries.
We'll
fill our stomachs up to our throats then;
before
the minaret can strike ten."
First
Published In Shot Glass Journal
Silent
witness- a mirror
She
stood in front of me, blushing
and
praising her seductive image;
taking
off her draping, smiling
at
the bites of her first wedding night.
Caressing
her breasts, she sighed in sync with
the
clattering of her bangles and anklets.
Body
swayed in slow dance
while
she stepped in tub.
I
witnessed her; her hands were not hers;
when
in trance they cuddled her .
Years
after; she stops by me hurriedly.
her
smile somewhat familiar.
I
watch sweat beads from her neck slowly making their way
through
her sagging breasts.
She
inhales freely in the closed bathroom
from
the ferns, placed on the small ventilation.
Fixed
and quiet, I witnessed her life
where
she didn’t give up .
First
Published in Earthen Lamp Journal ( India)
