Friday, July 29, 2016

|| cecile ||
























Cecile
is a name for
a tree-trunk that writes
with its roots spread in the earth

Her crafting fingers carve
a thousand things
out of the tree-trunk
Cecile, the goddess of Afro woodcraft
wears the symbol of nature around her neck

Ramrod as a tree-trunk
soft as tissue
wood fire burns
in her will to live

Standing in the middle
of the forest drinking
rainwater living the wealth
of the beauty of the sea she
knows the water resistant longevity
of sturdy Greenheart or Mahogany
Standing tall in the amid a river
a stone tower holding the culture-bridge
Cecile knows the dreams and aspirations
buried in the heart of the wood

In the body of the tree
Cecile lives and carves the
joy and delight of art
the poetry of Kalidas
magical sensuality and
the heady spring of nature
the dead Greenheart lives out
spring for a day

Sensing with her eyes
the shadow of evil in
the human body she brushes it
away with her breath as though
it was some borer eating into
the trunk of the human body

She plants Afro culture within
human hearts so future generations
may craft dreams and meanings
of words on the body of the wood

Like a plain paper
her eyes reach under every palm
so anyone may write her dream
on them and Cecile turn it
into a sample of 'karabasi'

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

|| three poems ||

















(One)

When
      his mind springs
      to read poems
      it moves towards
      the sandy banks
      on the paths
      made with palms of waves
He feels
      as if he is keeping
the soles of sense
      on the surface of verse
      as if he is experiencing
      the softness of poetry
      on the pages of earth
when
      his mind springs
      to live the poem
      it moves out
      towards the green paths
      the winds titillate his hair
      the winds touch his forehead

His mind
      is irrigated with
      the touch of love

(Two)

At the sea shore,
      his eyes
turn into a boat shape
that resembles
the offering given with both hands
      he drinks
      the warmth of love
      through the waves of the sea
      the palms of the winds
      immerse into his palms
      and sometimes
he feels the love of nature
      and sometimes
he feels the love of palms of beloved

he wraps the winds
their moistness
even when he is alone
and thus
doesn’t remain alone

and within himself
he wraps – nature
      earth
      water
      Sun’s heat
      space
his soul is satisfied
as if he has assimilated
all the five elements
inside his body
to create
the body of love
that will remain with him
forever
like his breath

that he can feel
like his heartbeats
that he can listen
like the music of his soul
to change the life into tunes


(Three)

History,
is his first love
because
history
has given birth to him
in which he stands
like an evidence
to make his time, a history

Poetry
is his devout companion
it takes him away from sadness
it clears his doubts
and whenever he needs it
he always finds it on his side

Friday, July 22, 2016

|| birthdays ||

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Birthdays remind of receding days
they shorten the life of dreams
snatch some wishes
fill an emptiness of life which cannot be filled
moving feet complete the perambulation of life
each year

Eyes wish to cover
beloved faces with the
joy of cordiality that
is scrubbed away by
the grazing of interests
through the year.

On a birthday
smiles wish to soak-up
the happiness off each laughing, congratulatory face
even
as the lips know the
hollowness of the smile

At the birthday celebration
held between warm palms
there is a wish to forget
all hatred-despair-animosity
knowing well this transient meeting
is rightly meant to turn into forgetfulness

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

|| a sign ||

















In my Ganga
I live
You are my Yamuna
like in my Krishna
you are my Radha

In your words
I touch
in your thirst for words
I quench the thirst of my soul
I surrender my eternal longing
Carried upon the vessel of your words
I reach
the source of the Yamuna, your heart
the colour of the cotton tree flower
silks buds hidden
awaiting the flowering
gift of the mustard flower
preceding spring

Sometimes rain falls
on the island bosom
of the river
as waves write
the longing of the river’s heart
as I do

On the sandy bank
of the ocean
whirlpools tell of
dream pools of the sea
as you do

On the deserted shore
of the earth
sometimes dew
sometimes a raindrop
writes
a matchless ballad
of unfulfilled desire
for me and you