A Distant Dream...

A Distant Dream...

Your one look into my eyes;
And your unbound transcendent love.
I born into. I exist.

My Moon, come, take shelter in my arms,
Let me dip into your cast,
And, create my structure.

The purity of your soul,
I admire.
Your path in love,
I aspire.
I aspire.
I aspire.
I aspire your confluence;
Since ages.

Your tepid touch
Amalgamates me into another world.
I get lost in you.
I take birth in you. Thus, I exist.

Ohh.. HOw My heart dances with innocence!
Ohh.. How the Night sings to me the songs of love!
And, I get drown in the melody of your name.
I win win lose you.
I live live die for you.
Ohh.. How I adore you!
Ohh.. How I most ardently adore you...!

Being a pearl I swing off your neck.
Being your heartbeat How I cling to your breast.
And, when out of love you raise your newly wedded wimple,
My heart swirls to light and wisdom.
And, I leave this world.
I leave all possessions.
I leave your love.
I leave myself.

And, I conjoin in you.
In you. In you. In you.
I reach and discover myself anew...

So, like a Saint,
I garnish my temple of love.
Like a parish,
I summon your chants from the book of your holy love.
you only take me to the other world.
In you only I reach my sublime.
In you only I reach my sublime.

H. S.

Love...

To carry an eclipse
Of eternal sunshine
of the spotless mind.
Beyond the horizons
Of a marked reflection,
Coming onto
the benevolent refraction.
A drop in the ocean,
Counts to none.
A tear in the ocean,
Hides to none.
Shining above
The armour right. 
Comes your knight
In your sight,
taking your hand 
in the ball to dance, and
merry-making along
at the splendid nine.
baby you are mine
forever forever and even after ever...
It is destined.



  

   

CONVERSATIONS IN SILENCE...

What is it that is born in my eyes and dies on my lips?
My Histella's kiss!

What is it that travels in my smile and routes to her heart?
My Histella's dreams!

What is it that starts from her chest all the way to my cheeks?
My Histella's breath!

What is it that comes from my dreams in a day up to her cozy nights?
My Histella's life!

What is it that oscillates from her thought to the reason of her origin?
My Histella's desire for Amoroso!

This is I, Amoroso.

Your Love brings revelations to my soul
like a morning coming from a scented rose
To admire its beauty seeing a glimpse of you,
Smiling back at me, attracting bees at you.

Her slender eyes of a deer and the beauty of its skin
A Swan passed by in the lake beside
This furnished green will be my last bed
Looking at the sky and painting the clouds ahead
I'll close my eyes, thinking of you and only you.

Like a glass filled with the oldest wine.
Reflecting the image of what my eyes shouts to see.
Her beautiful smile, now lost in disguise.
Her soft voice resonates in my mind.
calling out my name like never before.
And, I die. I die. I die.

Belongings that are left are seeped deep in my heart
Shining bright among the stars, here I lie.
Looking at your glow from far, very far away...
Wishing our love supreme divinity by God's living afar.

And so, like the ripples forming in a still water.
And a stone tied to a thread, approaching the center.
Carefully listening to the sound of silence.
Performing the softest Conversations in Silence...

-H. S.

On love and empires...

And thus, Amoroso asked the mighty Oracle, "What thou asketh me about valor and courage? When my Histella fell short of love."

    Love, the best of the most beautiful feelings in this world. The brilliant energy in the universe that binds all material beings into a bond of platonic-ism. And so, the beauty of such intensity is often accompanied by an equal attraction, or, could be rightly called as an addiction.  

    Love, intensity, or addiction can turn either into a blessing or a boon to oneself depending on the way in which it is handled by both the partners. Thus, in handling lies the root of the problem and also its solution.

    Let us start by defining, "What is love?" Love, in a general terminology, is the attraction which two individuals experiences towards each other. It could be in a group as well e.g. a family. Though, in a companion kind of love only two individuals are counted. Scientifically, love can be explained as a result of some hormones in the endocrine system of humans which are further supported and amplified by the pheromones.

   Many a definitions are present to define love. Even in a poetic sense, love is the feeling which one experiences while watching a flower bloom to its blossom in the fresh morning sunlight with dew drops still over its petals. It is that very feeling which one remembers in the smell of that young blossom, their whole life. A feeling which, although, can be created, but, can never be destroyed and are only preserved within.

   Among all other descriptions, a poetic feel is what makes you imagine what love could be. The poet will ask you as an admirer to the blossoming of the lily, "did you asked the flower to be a rose and not a lily?". Had lily cared about only pleasing the admirer and focused on being a rose, she would have never reached the prime and proud of being a lily in its fullest sense. And the admirer must have lost their desire to be with such a rose instead.

   The lily, in such a case, has to realize its true nature in being a lily only; the part in which she is most suitable. Love cannot ask a condition to be fulfilled in being together. If the admirer is looking for a rose then he shall find one. And, the lily, shall find the one looking for a lily. Hence, the balance will be maintained in the nature and everyone's lives.   

   Requirement can never occupy a place in love. For love knows no boundary, no condition. Love is boundless. It cannot be caged in some essential requirements of being worthy to be together or not. Love, is such a small word, yet so powerful that it can destroy empires.  

   Love is rebellious in its truest nature. Love is a revolt. It is a fight when two souls unite into one and stand in one voice to challenge the might. It is a fight for freedom- a freedom to be together without any boundary, without any condition; two humans in their most nubile forms wanting to be together. Love means a fight between the might and the right.  

   Love forms its own boundaries. It then transcends those boundaries themselves again to form newer boundaries. It does not ask the flower to become a rose, and not a lily, so that empire will accept them both. It cannot condition the flower. If one is looking for a rose then they must not stop at the lily. And if they are looking for a lily then one must accepts the lily in its prime-est form.  

   Love is a discovery. A discovery on how does it feel being fresh in a relationship even after so many years. A discovery, an enlightenment, with hands in hands on a wheat farm at sunset looking at each other just inches apart and a slight brush of lips. Love is that force which can fight the whole world, and not just an empire, to feel that tinge in the neck and spine while you brush your lips in such a farm. You realize the true power of love. Because, love is not for the weak. 

   It is the addiction for one another that does not let you break apart. Love is two hearts flamed in the passions and heat and fire. They could burn you if you come their way. It is such powerful that you cannot even think about breaking apart. For such an admirer who will look for a lily can never even think of asking a lily to become a rose so that they could be together in the eyes of the empire. Love is a trade for the weak. No love can sustain longer if strengthen upon the platform to please the empire and not the admirer and the lily. Hence the requirement or condition finds no place in love. And if its is truly a love, then love never fails... Even if empires stands against their love then the true rebellious beauty of love comes out in its supreme as a revolt.

   It is rightly said, the truest love is a fight for those warriors who see nothing other than their desire to be together. Who knew once separated cannot survive. It is not for those who run away like cowards to protect themselves from the agony of the empire and expecting the lily to become a rose so that the empire could accept them. It will fight for their own desire to be with the lily and despise the rose, because, in lily lies their true happiness and love. Love is for those who are bravest, courageous, who are determined to fight for one another. To put it simply, love in itself is powerful than the mightiest of mightiest empires..   

What good be good if love be not fought for its justice,
What love is love if valor and courage be not its companions,
What good be good if cowardice finds its home inside the lovers,
What love be love if it does not challenge the mightiest empire in the sky,
What love be love if two souls of such nature, be not met...


 

The Lake.

Do you hear the calm and still here.. so, serene..!!
This will be such a wonderful place to read 'n write poetry!!

Many over the lake, search for peace.
I come here, in search for the marrows.
If Life be silent, let silent it may be.
I will have courage, to beat the sun o'the east

Palaces, Arches and Aisles are created for what?
To some they may please, for rest this be peace.
I have traveled so far, very far across the shore.
I've only come to realize, my true path leads to you.
So here i come, cover'ng my long voyage.
Passing of centuries, from my birth to decay.
I've come to realize, the true essence of life.
To live for your love, to die for you love.

Baptization of the deads...

The Yearning equal in intensity
Paraded by the love of her sight,
witness something new on this very day,
This very hour, questions the supreme.
Sitting on aboard of snow.
Take my life. I can take no more.

AMOROSO:
Adieu. Adieu. The love of my life.
Thy Care i will miss, most dear to my heart.
You plucked me from beginnings, when i was numble.
Detached my base and made me humble.
For thee, my dearest! Thee, I desire the most.
My love is not half, but chosen with dews o'r jasmines.
I, your gentle admirer, Amoroso pledges to love thee
Till my soul collapse and ashes in the barren.

HISTELLA:
For she, who is sunken in deep sorrows.
Commands her lover's Grave.And censure the mighty deaf.
"Lightning grumbled upon my dearest love.
Make no mistake, O, My dearest love! Do no haste.
Silence of'd night is beyond my limits to bear.
Away no more. For I can hardly bear.
Where are you going, leaving me in fear.
Handle me with care, as I am soft as a leaf of clove
Dearth of my parts, in me which you liked.
could not fulfill your desire to be loved, like wise.
I heartily apologize, you are not the one I wanted to like.
But, you are still the one, whom I liked.
Till dis end awaited us, I will make no mistake.
Following you till the end of time I will accompany you in your Grave."

AMOROSO:
Chaste is thy love, like an honest virgin.
Ti's never "wise", as you always granted on me.
I was believed I was always the blue moon of thine eyes.
Never realised, the efforts you put, to reciprocate to my sighs.
For love is not to reciprocate my dearest.
Thee, whom i loved, never reciprocated, what i feel
For you was ne'er near, when I desired to be.
Not parts I wished to adhere. No more paint my heart!!
The only wish I yearned, not to be loved for my love, but your's.
There is nothing I can feel now, the wish, I make so hard now!!
Wait no more the Sun o'the east.
Nor the thunder lightning which cries on the split.
I shout from the hollows, beneath the earth I cry.
Gulf of poison she gulped upon my barren grave, and inside I lie.


All over!
What wicked play could mighty spirits play?
What tyranny could magic spells obey?
The cast of holy kingdom is standing silent, to baptize the dead.
No drop of love potion, can these two prepare.
For they, who lay one upon eachother as dead,
Still separated and disunited, as lay when alive.
Now lifeless. Sucked out of further desires.
The mighty heaven is at rest, Alas!
For two souls unite into oblivion, At last!

Uncivilized?

Before the cow. Before the lion. Before the iron.
At the first hazy image of an Indian Rhino. Before the sum
Taught us trade with the foreign lands;
Export-import. The Largest settlement.
Praisable architecture, art forms
An enigma, along the mighty Indus.
Boustrophedon. Manufactured seals of
Swastika symbol and Trimurti- Creator, Sustainer, destroyer.
Peepal worshipped, stamped the bull,
And Temple-less Shiva-Shakti obeyed.
Lingam and Yoni were sacred and prayed.
From Sindh it stretched, from Punjab and Maharashtra;
Relive what is buried and past.
Mohenjodaro, Harappa, Lothal Port and Ghaggar
Marks the land of unsung men.
Who gifted us cotton, the Mother Goddess,
Shell strips, Pashupati Mahadev,
Burial of a horse intact.
Ten prosperous centuries of mankind
Declined by Indra’s rage, of which
Rigveda speaks as hariyumpia.

The Unknown.

Come and sing..
Ye shall sing the song.
Sing the song and merry-making along.
The abrupt tyrannies of the world.
The fake hypocrisies of the nations.
We gotta sing it all
We gotta sing it loud!

Someone have to push you under the light.
Under the clear light, under the dreary bed.
Under the water, to make you gulp…
And then to make you churn
And produce solid out of water.
We gotta sing it all
We gotta sing it loud..
We gotta enjoy the ecstasy out of it.


View from the picture.
View through the art
Do not search within.
You will find the hollow rise..
The compromise. Of an aspiration
followed by inspiration,
then the condemnation and the damnation.
Within this holy nation.
What will you search?
What will you find..?


What we need is always different from
What we want. How will you view life then.


A word, followed by its opposite word.
Taking the conversation (philosophy of life)
To the level above commonly reach.
Then why are we forming heap of words.
We are the witnesses to the most degraded age of mankind.
“All is wrong, only I am right!”


They say, the struggle for power goes on!
The struggle for power goes on!
And you may contribute a verse….

Why disappointed, why so depressed.
We are allowed to sing like an impotent.
So enjoy every bit of this helplessness.
Where will thou find such a freedom
As you may knock the imperial palace
And disturb the creator.
But something is present…?
Something is ruling everything.
The greatest tragedy is….it is only something.
So, live life to the fullest in your lover’s arms…
And leave the future behind, hanging on your chairs arm…
Go, and you gotta sing the song…
You gotta sing it loud..
You gotta sing in harmony
With your other friends or enemies
Standing in a long row along…

Naive

Please be still
Please be a part of my Poison.
I want you numb
Your skin as cold as ice.
Because I'm stoic.
Some might call me a sadomasochist
But, in reality, I am your play-thing.
Be my culprit.
Show me my blood,
I cannot feel the pain
As you gave me love!!!
Please be still
Please be a part of my poison.

Trust me. I trust you.
Kill me, I want to see my blood
Is it red?
Red is the colour of rose as well.
Am I formed from rose?
Or is it you that filled me with red.

Please be still.
Please be a part of my poison.
I want you numb.

Show me my blood.
I want to smell it.
Does it smell of purple violets?
Or the lilies, we plucked together.
Where will I found a naïve as you.

Come to me I shall have you full.
Where dost thou can go.
You are my play thing.
Be still. I SAID BE STILL.
I WANT YOU COLD.
BE MY POISON.
I WANT YOU NUMB.

Shower me your lust.
Make me feel I am desirable.
May be, something can stuck me too!!!

Where are you going?
Leaving me incomplete.
Please don’t do this to me.
Enough of sadism I have suffered.
YOU come to me.
I don’t want you numb!
I don’t want you cold.

Suck the red within me
And give me exquisite pleasure.

An unsung tale…..true meaning of Poetry.

I



“John Keating: Words and ideas can change the world. We don't read and write Poetry because it is cute? But because we are the members of the Human Race, and the Human Race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But Poetry- beauty, romance, love, Passion. These are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman:

" O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities fill'd with the foolish;.......
What good amid these, O me, O life? "




answers that you are here. That life exists and identity. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.

What would your verse be?”

‘Dead Poets Society’ (1989).


A section from the original script which I took from the movie ‘Dead poets Society’, which vastly speaks about Poetry in context of Walt Whitman. Why did I choose the section from the script of a movie? I read somewhere, some days ago, movies are being criticized very boldly as they are challenging the identity of other art movements like music, drawing, dance, writing etc. I am not against such accusations nor am I supporting them. Escaping such polemics, I want to enlighten you with the fact that movies are a melodious blend of image, motion, music, verses and many similar artistic accessories which a director includes to make his point. Movies are very close to theaters. What promotes the fact of their sky-breaking height is it covers vast majority of audiences. This above mentioned scene portrays the beauty, art and meaning of Poetry in the first reading. But it has a lot more to tell than this. The above section of the script is giving us motivation (later this section is picked up as a part of Poetry’s teachings) to search for a meaning of life, to escape death. Other than material realities there are other realities as well which are not filled with cheating, jealously, hatred and revenge but are filled with pure ecstasy, that even the agony and the tragedy may sound as appealing as a verse written on a Spring. The world of life in life’s context.



To quote from Thomas Gray from ‘Elegy Written in a Country’s Churchyard’:

” The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.”



answers that we all are predestined to death; the ultimate end. But at the same time questions it and promotes us to rise out of it…..



“Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.”



In the movie too this theme is portrayed through “Carpe diem!” which means “Seize the Day!”. Make your every ordinary day count as extraordinary. Do something which will promote you to be called as a human of worth existence even if you have to pay your life for it, but in the end you can count yourself worth living. John Donne also gave a spirit to us to overcome such “ultimate end” in ‘Death Be Not Proud’ as,


“………………, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,”

“Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;”

“One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.”



What do all these provide us? A spirit. A spirit to survive. To survive against even the most dreadful enemy of human existence i.e. death. The Poem talks about the triumph of human emotions and optimism over the eternal fate of whole mankind.





II


What does Poetry consist of? The Poetry must possess some elements of revelations in it. Why am I saying this? Because this is what I want you to notice and understand. Before reading Poetry we must have our own reflection of Poetry. What do I mean from the word “revelation”? It is not just the dictionary meaning of the term as “uncovering the divine truth”, but I want to make you all realize how does Poetry works, how does it handles such revelations and how does it takes the “marrows from our lives”. The most common way of reading Poetry which is mostly prevalent in schools and colleges and institutions are not in correct fashion, the fashion they are meant to be read. We can read the poetry, analyze it with the poet’s historical, personal, social and political contexts, but this is not the thing which a poet asks from the reader. The thing which came to my notice in the movie ‘Dead poets Society’ is the Dead Poets Society itself. Some teenagers breaking the norms of social institution and standing, not in heraldry but to form there “own grounds” and stand determinedly on them; the way they read poetry… the way which “O Captain! My Captain!” teaches them to pronounce a “barbaric YAWP”, John Keating asking children to stand up on there benches to look at the class (a metaphor for world) in a different way, with different perspective; to see what you want to see not what others want you to see. In my first year of graduation I learned that Literature is a literary art which is meant to read aloud verbally to understand the tones, and the lifts and drops of it. What are we missing while reading a Poem? A Poet never likes his work to be just read and interpreted with certain philosophical theories or some one drawing graphs, and charts, and techniques for understanding poetry. They all are rubbish; a trash. The way in which the other person thinks cannot be the way I would think, there is always a difference in a person’s perception of things; which we term as our own natural “reception”.

Why does a poet write a poem? Because, a poet is urging us to understand those smallest things of life which we randomly overlook; which gets unnoticed. T S Eliot in his essay ‘Hamlet’ wrote that “work of art cannot be interpreted; there is nothing to interpret; we can only criticize it according to standards, in comparison to other works of art”, he further somewhere said that he wants us to read and feel his Poetry, not to be just interpreted and analyzed and then put aside. It is not only about T S Eliot almost every poet want the same approach from a reader, which is not getting fulfilled. Poet is urging us to grasp the juice of the poem, not the matter of which it is composed of. All the poetries of this world can be summed up in a single person’s life. The point which has not been spread commonly to the readers is how to read a poem, the manner in which it should be read, not only to stress upon its Meter, rhyme, Figures of Speech, but to get the feeling, the warmth, the bliss and the essence behind it.

Never read a poem in its original context, but try to relate it with your own life and personal experiences and this is what a poet wants us to do. He wants to reveal to us that we are humans, full of fertility, potency, passion, love, hatred, agony, that we all will decay one day and we all will be food for worms, birds and animals but still, we live and we exist, we have an identity of our own, not only as a human but also our own, which is not framed up constitutionally, but the identity which is worth noticing. Within the immense expanse of the universe we are worth noticing because we have life which is so damn beautiful. That we are full of life!

And We Will Go Within Eachother……..

amor platonicus- ‘Symposium’s


Where would have I found
so eternal peace as with you.
You flowered me from nothingness.
Now, that I go back to memories
when I miss you,
I re-read our old conversations
and smile.

The Hellish fire below my feet,
even the Granite melts and bones
realize their hollowness, and
blood boils to vapour drops.
Leaving staining essence
to this world, to smell
and to rot.

I want to refresh our old memories.
The eyes will get closed; light is shut.
How?
I am left to nothingness again.
To what extent this search will proceed.
I found myself stand nowhere,
and
at nights finds myself gazing
undemandingly at the Moon.
Your silky hairs; your siesta eyes
have a lot more to tell, then I could hear.
There is a smile, then there is a guise,
and then I am left gazing like a prey.
My search for eternal peace ends at you.

I want to transcend; transcend
of which Atwood spoke about.
Transcend will require me to
fight the horrorful other;
the delightful other;
the unknown other.

This unknown is formless.
How may I get to see him,
catch him, and fight him.
As I doubt, is this other,
a part somewhere inside me?
I searched and searched
and searched within again and
again and realized.
I am a drop within a sea.
Afraid of getting doomed forever in it.
Your sunshine must reach to me in depths
and furnish me with strength.
Give me your sight.
I have walked so far,
bless me your light.
Unless “human voices wake us, and we drown.”

And I may be left unsung, unnoticed;
pathless on this trodden, discarded path.

Where will I land?
Where will my voyage end?

My voyage will end at you, that’s certain.
And I will roll my sleeves up
and stand straight, and march forward
to enter the other and to
triumph over the other.
To conjoin with you.

A step after a step
After a step and our glory!

I would march forward
singing ‘A Song’ again and again
whenever I’ll be lost among
the trodden paths of this
humanly guised devilish space

Will I be left burning then also?
As passionately as I am now.
Or will this hellish burning will end,
in the end, and
cool down, and ice my scars.
Will you hold my hand and
kiss me to sunshine!
Will this dark other land
be brighten up then?
Will this impotent land
be fertile with our conjoin?
Will then we never be parted again?
From your eyes, to your lips,
To your smell, to your soul,
will want me with same intense,
as I to you now.

Am I Amoroso? Are you Histella?
No!
We are not
restricted, nor bounded
in any of the worldly illusions.


We have no name.
Only we have,
Us.

Give me your touch, and steal
my soul from me.
Give me your smell
and I would deflower it slowly
to preserve it only for myself, only myself.
Stare at me like this
and I’ll kiss thee to eternity.
Give me your lips
and we will leave this illusion.
We will leave this delusion.
Yes, my love you are right!
We will leave this world
And go within Eachother.

Have I Degraded? Or, Have I been Degraded?

Where are those days of trivial glories,
When I used to ask mom,
Mom! How is it? I created it?
It is my invention!
I proudly claim to my stupidity.
"Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?"
I ask from Nights and even from Days
The transmuted path, of that glorious bridge
Sketched earlier by Plotinus on that day
On which vainglorious cannot step.
And i worry, have i turned one of them?
The imbecility of my younger age
Have ripened and soaked by starved realities.
Have fled, and cowardly ran away!
Leaving behind some memories and me!
Leaving behind some memories and me!

A Song of....

I.
A song of union,
A song of commitment,
A song of triumph over endless eternity.
Praise! Praise! Holy Spirits!
Mighty wind will sing the praise.
Of our world-without-end wedlock.
From the heights of mountains
Heaven will shower the rain
The triumphant glory
Of our patience and pain.
The nature will sing its eloquent praise
To perform the ceremony of annunciation ablaze.


II.
Amoroso (A lover):
My soul! My beloved!
You are my light, and I am your secret admirer.
You bear the shape of Aphrodite.
Your radiance is what
I want to rub on my soul.

O my dear! My beloved Histella!
We have waited for long.
Yes, we have burned our flesh.
Our conjoin will now be blest.
It’s time for us to unite together
And make prophecies to get real.


III.
Amoroso (A lover):
You came from another world.
I wandered through loneliness.
You were so luminous.
I belonged to gloominess.
You raised me to “light”.
My life got enhanced, and bright.
Then you showed me anger,
And I feared the danger.
Well, let’s not dip into it now,
As time does not command us for.
The Edenic nature sings our praise.
Come, let’s dance upon its murmur.


IV.
Amoroso (A lover):
Through nights like this one
You entered into my heart.
The chamber was dark and empty
You ignited it with your “love charm”.
I struggled, I struggled! I fought!
My love!
The two demons with full detest and antipathy.
The strings were loose
I must have struck onto them
In my weakest hours.
If the string will now break,
The depth is where I will fall.
So, show me some sunshine
And liss me from this dread.
I ask for your heavenliness
And bless me, as much as you can
Now show me some magic
Of which I have been bereaved these years.
Oh! My “princess” just hug me(if you can)
When I am all in tears.
The scars are clear on my skin
When my passion burned me within
This sweet pain in loving season
I missed! I missed! I missed!


V.
Histella:
My true friend!
Your “mottu”; your “shona”
Have heard thee call.
The glory and praise
Of your love and pain, I know
Only I can ameliorate.
And I have come to mend with you
In our beatific romance.

Your love had many followers.
Your love had had its coronal;
You showed me new conn’tation
Of love which is pious in stature.
I made you wait longer more than you deserved.
I made you cry longer then you should have.
I had some limits of my life
But my soul belongs to you.
Plato, Plotinus thought of giving way
Wordsworth thought of
Moulding it in his way.
No one thought of its own angelic nature
To come to terms with our own fascinations.

I have heard thee, your eloquence
You call me “siesta” eyes sometimes
You praised me more than I deserved.
Prayed me as Aphrodite.


VI.
Amoroso (A lover):
It won’t fulfill my appetite!
To make you immortal,
Will be my only expertise.
To place you on the throne of
Goddess of beauty and love forever.

I was a null; Ah! Yes, I was a null.
A mere void in expanse of this world.
Followed by material blissful stuffs.
You brought “light” to my innocent eyes.
Now let us join with the heaven.
And sing praise of our lovely wedlock.


VII.
(Souls of two lovers in perfect harmony):
We burned! We burned! We burned!
Some parts of our flesh do get burned.
This flesh is mortal,
Soul had its own transmuted essence.
The nights were restless,
And days were endless.
This inferno had burned our skin
And the nights asked us to sin.
We evolved. Aah! Yes, we evolved.
Struggling through such trivialities.
And we have come so far this way.
Let’s not waste this fragrance away
In material words like this one.
Come and unite together
In the silence of our love!
In the silence of our love!
In th….Sile… o… …ove..!

Indian Hockey and Economic Deficity, A Routine Process.

It is a Shame for Ministry of Youth Affairs & Sports for ousting the needs and monetary requirements of Indian Hockey Federation and its players. Where has the funds assigned to the Ministry of Youth Affairs & Sports by the government to India for Hockey players. If the Ministry of Youth Affairs & Sports had forwarded the funds to the Indian Hockey Federation then how can the funds deficit? How can they be inadequate? where is the Nationality of our National game lost. I, as an Indian want to apologize to our Hockey team players and members for playing without any patronage and not only this they are willing to play games on their own expenses, Captain Rajpal Singh spoke from the front,"Since the Federation does not have the cash, we decided that we would all pool our resources together and play the World Cup and pay for our own expenses." I want to cheer them up to perform well in the World Cup. This is the naked economic condition of Ministry of Youth Affairs & Sports, that our patriotic players are filling the loss of internal politics and corruption committed by others.Listen to what India Hockey team's goalkeeper Adrian D'Souza has said on this,"You would not believe we got a daily allowance of USD 20 in our last tour of Argentina. And when we won the Azlan Shah Cup last year, the amount was USD 14." I am not intending to be misread here, but it is only possible in India that other games are provided ascendant importance against our national game, Hockey. even if you ask a Ten year old child "what is our National game?" he will lavishly reply "cricket!". The child doesn't even know the names of our Hockey players, and can never recognize them on streets if acquainted. This is the importance given to our national game. Each Cricket player is crowned with 17lakh rupees for a single ODI match and what is provided to our national game....God bless shame to our persons in authority that a true Indian with good fortune, Amitabh Bachhan, is self-forced to offer money to the Hockey Board of India. This is their reputation in the eyes of an Indian. I want to bulge out here one more aspect of it, in this ultra-communicative India, Media has a vital role to provide enlightenment to the mass, media should emphasize more towards other forms of sports as well. What reward has been given to others like Leander Peas, Tennis- Bronze medal(1996), Karnam Malleswari, Women's Weightlifting 69kg- Bronze medal, Rajyavardhan Singh Rathore, Shooting- Silver medal. Abhinav Bindra, Shooting- Gold medal was an exception among these who got some light, but was also been deprived of real merit which he must have received, ignoring five minute clippings of him on every news channel. what is media doing to snatch the attention of the mass towards the lethargic workings of bureaucrats preparing the platform for Commonwealth Games 2010, which India is going to host in October this year, not the next to next year!! I want to apologize for hurting the sentiments of anyone but this is the naked face of our present day corruption and soporific countrymen.

The Son of Man

I am the Son of Man
Then, what is my temperament?
Am I born?
Or, still unborn?
I can’t figure who am I?
I am the Son of Man!!!



I am the diasporic thought.
I am the exiled of your.
I roam through those lands
Which has been declared barred.
I am your neglected evil…
U can search me on the internet
Or search me in libraries, and
Museums,
Watch me in theatre,
Or, some movie.
Still don’t know who am I?
You better know who I am.
I am the Son of Man!!!



Please tell me who am I?
Please tell me who am I?
I really don’t know who am I?
Because, I am the Son of Man!!!

An Ode to the Multiple-Incarnations of my Beloved. (A Poem in Three Parts)

I. The far past….


Again in my bedroom
I found my love
Shining like a bright pearl.
As the ocean beneath the Sun.
My love; my Poetry
I found thee again.
Your radiance is so strong
Like a burning flame
In the distance so long
To capture the flame;
And to rule the throne.
I entered my bedroom upstairs again
Your tantalizing body under my linen sheet
As perfect as the rhymes of Pope
Baffled me to enter or to stop.
You lied face down
With your back open
Arms spread on the ground
To grasp me fully into them.
“The pain of loving you
Is almost more than I can bear”
Chants Lawrence in ‘A Young Wife”
My truest desperations in delight.


Should I move close to you?
Or should I not?
Should I touch your Wordsworthian skin?
And snatch the nature from his flesh.
To grasp the Universe and create it afresh.
Will you then be back from your sleep?
Ambiguity endures deep into my breast.
And then,
I will lose my Trance.


I am climbing Mount Everest
Commemorating Byron’s Womanizing eloquence
You took bath in the beauty
Of sorrow,
Fear,
Pain,
Abundance,
Delight, and
Pasture,
From Beowulf to the present time
Moulding its structure.


My room is gleaming
Never have been so luminous before
Her body bright
All the spectators are in pure delight.
Her intriguing,
Beautiful, and
Elegant form.
Alluring me to touch thee
And then I will be ostentatiously free.
Free from all bondages of ‘Tradition and the Individual Talent’
My salient motive will be then
To further seduce this temperament.


I moved towards her, and
Touched my white linen sheet.
Softly,
Smoothly
I sprayed my hand
On the naked back of ‘Christabel’
My heart is throbing twice, thrice….
My hands are trembling
As cold as ice.
Finally, I have touched thee.
And I entered the Trance of my Trance.





II. The near past...


You gazed directly into my eyes.
I can search the treasures beneath the chambers of the sea.
Holding my hands, and
Leading me deep into the depths.
Your touch is tepid
So soothing.
So relaxing.
Amalgamating me into your cast.
I am trying to rise out of my inside.
But then, I will lose my double Trance
And my heart will mourn at this demise.
Your lips are coming close to mine
I have to close my eyes
To enjoy the ecstasy of the infinity of my Trans
You Poetry is my truest muse.
As you blessed Milton.
Bless me the same use.
Our breathings are colliding.
Our lips are eating the distance.
Oh! My Mephistophilis!
I might come!






III. The present…



Enduring love is perpetual
Like a persistant tree,
Who’s branches are endless in the sky
Showering eternal and
Ceaseless droplets.
The unending,
Undying
Nature of love distinguished it
With all other bonds.
I just only wanted to tell her…



I my room
Darkness resides.
I saw
A night watching me,
Endlessly
In the dark.

One Night Stand

The music was Jazz at that late hour
In the party of Mr. John.
The mood was tempting,
But much alluring was the shape of that Glass.



At the bar counter, drinks were served
Whiskey, Rum and Cola.
But more enchanting was the shape of that glass
Who bears the shape of Aphrodite.
The excitement evoked so strong.
I tried hard to suppress it.
I even walked out of the party that time
Tried hard not to relate my passions with that.



That much strong was the web of that Seductress Glass.



While driving on the lonely road
With no moon light at all.
Darkness was so much occupied outside
Endeavouring to break the panes of my window
And trying to amalgamate me into itself.



Somewhere in the ruling Darkness
A blonde seductress was standing.
I tried to stop.
But I crossed her.
Without showing any sign of notice to her.
And few steps ahead
I braked.
She came to my car
I opened the door
She stepped inside
And closed the door.



I didn't inquired about her destination
Neither she told me herself.
I was endlessly driving for hours
On the road to eternity.




She was sitting next to me
But we didn't exchanged a word,
The mood was soothing
So much relaxing
I can feel her warmth next to me.
We were actually communicating
With our own pre-language stuff.
Our eyes met, and suddenly
Got distract
In a glimpse of a sec.
I watched her lips,
My eyes praised her alluring neck.
She was wearing sultry Red
Like an enchanted mistress.



I stopped my car in the middle of the road
And gave her the staring wheel.
She drived for an hour
Then parked the car
In front of an abandoned house.



The night was getting icier
With the passage of time.
We embraced each other
And walked inside that coquettish house.
My hands were holding that glassy waist
Reminding me of that Glass
Having similar shape.
The only difference from that time is that
Now I really want to drink
The Whiskey inside.



We entered the house and
Jumped to bed.
I discovered
I am a womanizer.
She took my hand
Onto her lap.
I was caressing her soothing lingerie.
She kissed on my neck.
Oh my Gosh!!!
My eyes rolled back.
A sudden sensation spreads
And for the first time ever
I witnessed the taste of femme fatale.
I moved towards Hedonism.
We maintained that pose whole night, I suppose
Next morning I found
That womanly Glass was sleeping with me on my bed......

A Walk on the Road

One year is going to past
Only one month and six days are left
You my brother is still residing in my heart
Pacing my heart beat count to one thirty, one fourty, one fifty....

My eyes are closed
My senses are evoked
feeling your warmth
within my mother's breast

seclusion is not a pain for me anymore.
Waiting for your love,
for your care, and
your melodious voice
calling 'BHAIYA....' once again
does not leave me to cry and to mourn anymore.

When i walk through the streets
once again in the evening.
A sweet wave smoothly brushes my cheek and
whispers into my ears and says
'Hey dear BHAIYA....someone is missing and
wishing for your luck'
A sensation,
then temptation,
and then contemplation 
covers my body,
brain,
heart, and
soul 
to possess and
then repress
to preserve
the sweetness of my love
for you only for you
my love.

on the middle of the road.
My eyes are rolling back
harmoniously with my neck.
I can smell the heavy smell of you
which has traveled across the distance of time
to reach to me and then
say to me
'that my sweet Bhaiya!
I am here and
I am back.
I am here and
I am back.
I am here and
I am back.'
Love you Nayan....

The Time is Gone

the time is gone, only memories are on,
making the way for you 
to step into new world,
of profit and delight, where you may 
see me stand there, right there my love,
where you have left me,
to live in pain, and disdain
within me of losing you so unexpect'dly, 
i'm hold'ng up my outbr'st 
of love, of emotion, of care.
for you, only for you
my sweet little brother,
do come back soon, do come back soon, 
please do come back soon. i miss you........  

An Apology for a Night Call

I am happy 
You didn’t call me tonight.
Moment, which was ours,
You left me alone
To wait for you for hours.



I am waiting for your call.
You are busy with other talks.
I am venerated,
Adored,
Honoured,
And, crowned
With all the jewels of foolery trademark.



The Cat is sitting
Adoring the Moon.
The Moon is gazing
Back to Cat.
The Stars are burning
With jealousy
And revenge.
They are feeling cheated
With love romance
Of Moon and Cat.



Stars are my friends.
Let me flirt with them.
If you won’t call me
I’ll relate my passion with them.
They are alone
And I am depressed.
They need someone
And I am with them.


The Wind is our medium 
For me to reach them.
Then I don’t have to wait for you
As I’ll have them.
If you may think
How will I converse with them?
As they don’t know my language
And neither did I.
This case is very critical
And won’t last long.



Language is our myth
Which has certain limits.
Truth is our emotions
And Love is the true bond.
Now, your call is coming
But its too late for me to attend.
I am busy in flirting 
With wind, Stars and all.



Wind is rolling
With shivering breeze she moans,
With orgasmic pleasure
Of love between
Me and Stars.
If you can hear her
Hear her sing the song.
A whisper might come to your ear
If you will feel the ecstasy
Of my love with Stars.