Friday, November 8, 2013

Floored

Floored with the stupor of colours
I touch them with my sight
Do'nt know how to paint
While my fingers steal a feel

Gluey-sticky tubes charge
cant hold them steady anymore
unnerved I gaze the flow of colours
unmoved I hear the echoing concept.

The stillness within simplifies
the groaning desires to inaction
sight and tears now witness
the fear of deliverance.

Quietude steadied with hope
happiness was just a space without
which occurred to the loss of feel
 an abject refusal to see the pain within.

~ A


A Great Renunciation

The pain I gave you o beloved! is a great awakening.
My separation from you o beloved! is a great learning.
This unaccomplished life I live o love! is a great stirring.
My feeble limbs, still, curious, impatient to an all new measure.
The debt of life I owe you Amanda ! is certitude and awakening stir.
My sordid life tracing a pace uncharted till limbs strengthen.
Accepting Self as in a destined unfolding is a Great Renunciation.

~ A.

Pendulum

Those moments of love
we shared together
in the intense rapture of
expectations and desire
all unfulfilled to the core
often expressed through
muffled sounds and silence
Ah sigh !

The intensity shall
never decrease in
words or actions.
Its the riding emotion
that shall swing often
from hate to love
and back again.
Ah change!

This lattice of exchanges
and lucid transformations
is bound to break
and soon shall the
swing of life and
togetherness rest
the pendulum to repose.

~ A.


It all looks like its past.

It all looks like its past.

Although the evening 
still struggles to snug
into the night 
by my bed side and 
I have still not had a wink 
it seems to be all past.

The dawn smears 
my face with breeze and 
light glides in a playful frenzy 
to brace the palpitations 
of my breath and soothe the 
drudgery of my limited Self.

Even I am past
All years succumb into 
the illusive loneliness that
wash my days while I seek
the strength to walk
past the passing.


~A


Tuesday, October 22, 2013

What is Poetry?

Poetry is an art of listening. A habit that can be inculcated only by a mind that is receptive and open.  The hymn, the metrical composition and the rhythm is given by the pulse of the feelings through which we choose to see or hear the situation. Poets know how to listen.

 Poets listen to themselves. They listen to objects around them, to situations, events, happenings, feelings and at times get an intuitive insight complicates the intense weave between the Truth and the Perceived “reality” of this world.  This Art of Listening gets translated through the Self in the poet and is expressed as a Poem.

Poetry becomes an art at the point where listeners generate their own individual response to the verse. The experience of the poet, illustrated in the rhyme of words and language may be entirely different from the visions inculcated in the reader.

Writing poetry cleans the soul.  The personality benefits from “the readiness to listen”, “the ability to synergise the experience with the Self” and finally “the strength to bind it in an expression”.  This is almost like BREATHING, where in a poet/writer is imbibing, exchanging/benefiting and exhaling. The oxygen is absorbed by the soul of the poet. As a person who benefited from this aspect of writing and learning I can vouch for the amount of Healing I feel after writing or even after reading poetry.

Like in life, in poetry too, it is not always important to be correct or to understand poetry or a verse correctly, because there is a complete Spectrum of Colours and Feelings that needs to be understood to enrich the experience of life. For us Be-lagams, life is to be seen as a poet, in all its colours- by the day, rather than as in Truth or False ( Black or White) by the night.

(Be-lagam definition of Poetry)




Sunday, October 13, 2013

Transformation of SELF

It was never about ending
It was always about transforming
It was never about killing
It was just about flowering
It was never about stopping
It was just about dispersing.
The spiritualist's Self
Seeks to anoint  the Truth of LAW
By recognizing the singular consciousness
through many.
Annihilation of Self when done 
with the Zeal of Love, 
gives fruits for the Brotherhood.

~ A.



Compositions

Strings evokes a spell, 
or do they shriek ?
on being struck, 
bowed, strummed.

The tensed strings 
reverberate to
the hollowness of the body 
through which  they are bound.

Each strike invokes a dash
When it is beaten
The stretches of skin resound
To the shallowness below.

Through hollowness,  
shivering string's, shallowness, 
stretched skins and strikes
Music is born.
To each his own.

~A.


Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Falcons need to fly

As you denied your touch
and pulled your hand
away from me,
I felt a better grip
on my wings.
I do not dwindle on the
face of desire anymore
I never knew passion
in its freedom-glow
Till the pangs of desire
spent itself on me
Shrouding the length of light
and the breadth of air.

Am better being myself.

Now whenever I will
take your hand to perch
or walk the road
I will grip it with
more care and support
to rather than just hold.
So are partnerships
and relationships bettered
when the tyrannous love
seeks to equal
a brimming passion
with un-quenched hatred
for a flight.

~ A




Monday, October 7, 2013

Revelation Road

I always thought
That LIFE destroyed
What was mine.

As I see it today
When half my deed is done
I always made a wrongful claim.

Life only revealed
In subtle impulses
And slow measures.

What was never mine.

~ A



Action for Autism

Kissing eye lashes
On beautiful eyes
Colours from the lips
Sigh !

The shades of dusk
On blemishes smile
And sweet notes of music
Forlorn !

Unknown faces cheer
All for a cause
Well grounded
Well spent !

Fragrant nuances and
Happiness all to a toast.
My spirits in its essence Autistic
needs an action now.

~ A




This poem was written in a charity dinner "Action for Autism", to highlight the fact that we are all autistic at some level so the other, just that there is a basic cover-up and a minimum level of acceptance by the society. So why is Autism as recognized by the masses, so constrictive for a few.


Thursday, September 26, 2013

Stirring

.....  and matters had flown beyond
just you and me
I had dug too deep
beneath the layers
you were not just a woman
not just my love
not just my partner
not just my kind
not just a human
and not even just a soul

The forms of recognition
were only for the eye
through which i choose to see
and as I dug
deeper I found
only a Spiritual Priniciple
.......  a Love Divine
which proliferated into 
a form each casting a 
shadow onto another
to etch you out O beloved!

So let us meet
form to form 
soul to soul!
principle to principle
man and woman.

Were it you who cast the stirring?

~ A.




Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Space Within

The lake did not even know
I had stolen an unfathomable plunge
Into its deepest crest & quenched
my soul within its bosom.

Neither did the condor know
I mustered a flight in the clear sky
With a wingless gaiety to a flight
Only to formless pinions known

Neither did she know I stole
The scent of her hair as they flew
Unleashed to her regime of chores
silly daily chores of the day.

The clan of dreamers and poets
Is so nurtured and bred that life is
More real in images, thoughts and visions.
Well lived, fulfilling and responsive.

The victory of the space within
Is better realized to legions
Of time and space that lie
In the connect of the ethereal world.

~ A.


Saturday, September 14, 2013

Colour Palette

Tactile blinded warmth
of the colour palette
I heave to an array of forms, 
fluids, tints and hope
streaks of shades impressed
by the blade of your strokes.

Brushing my formlessness
with the ebbs and troughs 
of body and soul-unite
carving images-shapes
meaningless to the world
but to passions known.

Fiery red of your saree
staining the canvas though
dexterity of the craft reveled
moist at the corner of your eyes
floating passions delight and drop 
a dash of silver from your anklets chime.

With the emptiness anointed
to a fervent evanescent joy.
on your brow is a bindi smear
a taint from the instinct poured
in my soul and a reminder of the 
rapture dyed in coloured trance.

~A


evanescent - vanishing; dexterity -  mastery ; revel - rejoiced ; rapture - euphoria, ecstasy. 

Thursday, August 1, 2013

The love all game continues longest – SQUASH Poetry

Initially we were just knocking and
then the love game began.
LOVE ALL !! they exclaimed.
It was in a fit that we surged
to hit and serve,
and hold the court that was divided
between us in one closed space.
The game seemed to be endless
till the time it was a  LOVE game.
When one dropped the other served.

Love ONE !
Oh ! it was a mistake.
The game shall move to an end
when the race for point began.
the Rules for this race for were known
but who cared, I was there for the thrill.
To take every service
I had to rush forward to play
And after the shot, hold my court back.
It was ONE Love!
And the service changed
Soon it was LOVE 2..
My partner got a chance
when I made a service fault.
So this time to gain a point
I place the ball well out of the reach.

The game shall sometime conclude
but all I know is
In the end one love is enough
to make me loose....
We always loose to a love.
~A.



Thursday, June 27, 2013

Need to React

Sozzled, Sore, Intrepid
I head to the door, 
unbolted it and crossed
Thrilled! I had reacted,
Soon, there was calm.

Its not been very long,
but I am curious to know
whether I walked in or 
I walked away?

~A.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Clothes-line

Is there a difference 
either today is not true
or yesterday was false.
Have I awakened to the fact-
"Life is more about disbelieving
than accepting, belonging owning".

My breath only a Clothes-line
naked neat clear cold
pinned to the beginnings
swinging across space and time 
with a force challenging the holds.

By each morning's light,
an array of coloured shapes,
adorn enriched - promises
clipped to me - ah! a dream,
are parched dry in the heat
hooked clamped to me 
only for my force to hold. 

You can see and smell
their rich fragrance release
by the flipping breeze
of bodies-occasions-shapes
weaving an array of tales
mesmerizing noise of life
to which I swing and play
all day. 

Colours shed by the night.
The time-tied transience
of prosperous shapes and dreams
the clothes-line thinks it owned
Was it not a recharge stop by,
finally to enrich and colour those
to whom they belong.
On evenings I shiver as they 
leave me to homeless nights
with only a bare,unrealized
ill-clad incomplete lifeless Self
clinching to the ends.

It is an unsaid promise
to all my brothers and creed
that untold stories shall pour
with fresh colours shape and grace
pinned to our breath each day,
if only we can live the destitute nights
and to the nailed ends hold
and this was our Life.

~ A


Monday, June 10, 2013

Flow

The river's leisured flow
emracing the soiled city
as you cuddled beside me
your fragrant naked body-

There are bridges across
to hold the scorching bond
my arms brace and tender
you a union trance.

Inert nature of city
holding the turbulent banks
imagining a maze of curves
vulnerable aroused sleep.

On nights the coast caves in 
lusting shingles in a frenzy
still feeling your depths
tyrannical revelry  innocence.

Deluge a measure of passing
torn-drift to nameless lands
fresh delectation pending
flare fervour rocks.

~A


Catalytic Evening

I woke up many times
churning a myriad impulses
scattered stimuli gathering
a destination in my dreams.

Cuffed in a body's wrap
dream time's symbiosis
part neurotic part ethereal
returning to fade my breath.

Chasing desired causes dryness
or was it the ale I over drank
over a vodka carrier cocktail
coloring the evening's stance.

The pillow often tried to stitch
sleep on to a mind smeared
with hallucinogenic hops
giving body to flat life-beer.

Mixing drinks - never a great idea
specially if you do it for a high
to crack the skin we are living
instinct's destined feel.

~A.


Thursday, June 6, 2013

Reality Divorced on the junction of Tudor Park

On the  corner of the UN
with an ageless blade of steel,
was uprooted for a cause
probably there was one
with none to mourn
but the breeze and the stones.

My trunk had grown too strong
and the roots had dug deep
firming with the foundations around
pushing ways that were mine
deep into the ways and meanings 
that only the chainsaw owned.

On the border of the roads and dreams
I stood with my brothers for an age  
- reminiscent emotions from forbidden lands
rooting for life and shade
the throttled teeth and innocent beings
could only partly understand.

Probably I leaned too much
or my dried leaves littered a resplendent emotion
into the rocks the paved lanes held.
someday the muggy tar shall upturn
and my lineage shall leap to life
to cherish OUR share together. 

Trunk was slit, the branches shredded
Aimless roots in the soil rejoice
that to OUR worlds belong
restless shoots aroused the Caution
the wayside souls could trip
some of my breed still enrich
the inert nature of 1st Avenue, 43rd Street.

~ A.


Thursday, May 30, 2013

Evolution

Places which I inhabit
Are infected by my Self
The Mind that is evolving
At freedom pace,
Is often inhibited by
The limited bodied Self.
These imprints will 
in time dissolve
My fingers need to be 
the fingers of Man.
And my heart to 
breathe for humanity.
The stream has 
often receded
The land has always 
embraced the bank.
We all shall wait 
for the flood
Where the sleeping land 
embraces the stream
And all the banks are 
flooded- drowned.

~ A



Monday, May 20, 2013

A Traveller Through Time and Space (Written in the Bliss of Creation)


a traveller through time and space
............ a unique soul
stooped over in surprise and happiness
.....  to catch a moment of our love
... through its participation
.........  we say - Our creation ?

a traveller through time and space
............ a unique soul
is knocking at athe door
.......... to be a part of our love
and honest attention
........................ forever

so let us strengthen our bonds
and dip our love in graceful manners
uniting together though distant apart
and pave the way for this traveller
...... who by the very presence
.....  has proclaimed
to theis world .....
that we LOVE.

~A


Search


The search begins
to trace the
face that
bursts into smiles
when next to me.

The search begins....
to find the
one who
to me belongs,
forever/ always.

The search begins...
within the mind
to review
the dreams
you sang aloud.

The search begins...
within myself
for the force
to carry me
to meet her on
another day.

The search remains
when you are near...

Perplexed am I.

~A



Sunday, May 19, 2013

Life of a Kiss

Reminiscent of Human Memory
A Joy untold....
Messenger of an emotion
That flowers in a fragrant union
.. and dismisses the Human boundary
The explosion of a thought
into an expression to the final occurrence - a union.
It lasts for a moment 
and holds together the human nature
The breath longs for connection and 
Unchained fears explode to joy
to a rightful claim.
The life of a kiss is just a message
The TRUTH that anoints
a UNITY that Sustains.

~ A.

............... the day the wise man spoke................


The need not felt, expresses itself,
In measures which are forbidden, low.
The love for life had cast its spell,
And deep within the dewy dell,
I brewed dreams forbidden though,
To living shapes and mortals low....  (INCIDENT)
                                      
The life that grew as a tumultuous brook,
In mountain folds and treasured grooves
With prized appearance, lovely sure,
Is bathed in gore from human strife,
and frozen cold and seeks for self,
the hallowed wealth, of human pleasures black and grey..... (YOU)

I cared too much for little things,
And hence was bent with all my strength, for
The gashes sealed and long back healed
with passions from a human shape
erupted now, and pained me to my very core.
And well against the lessons learned, was seeking for a human touch.... (ME)

Unlearning is the law of life
and knowing the wide man’s destiny
The heart is but a touchy thing
Seek for self the inner wealth, not
Treaties from a love secure,
And live by mind that yearns for more, knowing not man’s night and day ...(ADVICE
                                                                                                            FROM THE WISE MAN)

The path today, as ever before
Will make man run till evermore,
As fate – Without has witfully stored.
But life would be a generous fit,
And joys will reel, as never before,
With cravings less and learning more....... (PHILOSOPHY)

The pain that grew and pierced me through,
Though silenced then, (as lions within a golden den)
Awaits for the moment to surge and seek a broken shape
Life has less seeking now,
That seas and winds are forever friends,
For man within his folds does hold, tyrannies from an uncouth mind .... (EXPRESSION)

~A
Sept 1996





Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Affirmation- Healing Prayer for a tired Soul


This healing prayer was constructed carefully for the young who find it difficult to embark on their journey through Life. 

Reconstructing the HEART with chords of FAITH
Reverberating the MIND with dauntless COURAGE
Reconstructing EMOTIONS with opportunities through LIMITATIONS
and
Blessings to REAP the harvest with the Eyes of TRUTH.

~ A.


Monday, May 6, 2013

True Life


Born to an un-tried Life
With Truth-less flakes of Love
adorned in flesh - Perishing
a shape confirmed as I.
Blooming to the disguised Being
With a nascent touch aglow
Me to a power confirmed
Nature's fastened freshness for sure.

Un-Truth disowned me
- an unworthy son to a worthless father
I yelled and cried on my way
to Truth's Orphanage
Here choices are few
and food enough - only to quench the flaming pangs
But am told the soul survives
It carries its thirst to a Pathless Land.
~ A


Sunday, May 5, 2013

This Anger

This anger, hatred and hurt
that my presence evokes in your heart
IS NOT ETERNAL
It's a limited emotion
to give me my lessons from a PAST
to which WE BELONG and 
lead us to a future,
morphising our PRESENT to a PAST.

This anger, hatred and hurt
is not a negative emotion
And we claim we  belong
 IN UNITY
Togetherness BINDS us, beings, for a PURPOSE.
and its most UNKIND
WHEN A BEING  IN ITS  JOURNEY SOJOURN
denies manna.

This anger, hatred and hurt
are constrained to BE
but not beyond the brink of life.
Its not ETERNAL
Its our LIMITATION.
Please forgive ME and YOURSELF
As it shall METAPHORISE in a blessing
As TIME HEALS and reveals HIS plan.

~ A








Promise of Every Soldier of the WHITE ARMY

In every birth....

Always in an open field

Below the shining SUN,

On a land caressed by a fragrant breeze,

Aware of a SELF, willing to sacrifice itself

On contention and a point of war -

-a  conflict of FAITH - TRUTH

Will I loose my Life.

The roar of my SOUL can be heard

by the being in which it resides.

Amen!

~A.




To My Hurt Wife

To
My Hurt Wife
It may not always happen the way it happened always
I may not always be what you have known me to be
Life may not always bring us back to the hills where we have met
With loads of love on pony backs and dreams to our feet.

But still where ever life shall take us
I shall always remember the warmth of your love
The great afternoons we have shared
The robes and the roses.

For our journey I am packing 
tonnes and tonnes of love
My balance living years longing and
a dream that could come true.

If you ever need
By dearth of adventure or
Just for the good old days sake
Remember ME.

Lots of Love 
Anand
 ~ A.




Home

Glimmer in your bright lit eyes and an enslaving smile
My little girls laughter and their cheerful leap into my arms
Their struggle to come closer and a fight for my laps share
Your warm, resistant and shy embrace.... always pushing me away
My little home tugged in the worlds corner best
The flappy gold fish's smacking lips and the chirping of my free birds
Some flowers born, some un-flourished and some bloomed
The world's best home-made food and your love potions
Make me - an object in time and space - a human, a man, a son and a father....
Looking forward to be with you - I.

A.

A Dialogue with my Fate

Below the culvert of Two heavens,
A little being Your son - I
Crowding around me a MYSTERY,
YOU- a loving Father.

Less to reason and more to YOUR PATH
I resist with my little MIND,
The mystery called YOU,
With all the might of I.

In within this shrouding mystery,
Much of my I sleeps and dreams
And through this, more than YOU
Evolves.

Have mercy O Father
Have mercy O Father
My loss, My burden
are all too much to take.

My heart awaits on the Rack
To be sentenced.
There is grief there is fear, there is dejection,
In this silence called I.

O heavens, let the MYSTERY loose,
Let the animals off their leashes,
For me to brave the circus
To tame or to perish.

In the waiting I.

~ A.




Shore of Truth

Is this world seemingly silent after a storm?
Is the empty shore so languid and bare?
Is not the fumbling measure of life
shaking and in a dream sleep
within the shadows of an unspent edge of a rock?
Who is there in the scorching sun to live?
Who in the shadows breathes respite?
There are no moving shapes punctuating the crashing waves
The living sounds all lost in a gurgling?
Yet from the sky unknown limitless unseasoned blue
Is a sedge of cranes.
They never stopped, they never will, 
but next year same time they will cross again.
I wonder if they ever looked how
Bare is the shore of Truth.

A. 
~ 4.3.13



to my Master

O Master
not that i have not tried,
but your disciple - I,
so stricken in love for what is
caresses every thorn that pricks the tender feet,
as a part of itself, and stoops on every pebble
that claims to block my way... a pretentious emotion.

O Master
i am so torn in dialogues of dreams
that the journey that was to begin upon a way foretold
ends with a search for steps back to the road
from which i in the morning began,
and lost myself in the wayside forest
being, dreaming, musing but never disobeying.

O Master
the sun never sets upon my land
the breeze is never felt
its a day within the night often moonlight in the shade of a tree
the stillness of nature within the motion of a storm,
and a droplets singular journey's story told, within a crashing wave;
the elements all exist within my being with enough love to share.

O Master
the principles that i seek to preach
live and breathe within The Design
of every stir of a leaf and stillness of every rock
of every social error of human action as in thy spiritual regime
where breath, movement and existence itself is a principle
and are best lived pondering in loneliness.

O Master
the heaven that i always seek
appears behind every corner, every tree and
vanishes as it occurs, it guides, but is never caught- comprehended
my blessing is to live a life where my concious participation
is a meditative solitude and every happening explained-unexplained
the elixir of life.

...  but someday I shall join the band o master
upon the un-tread land.
with a crowd that appreciates the notes and music of Earth
and with ones who have its breeze, its wind its sun as Scriptures
and live their fate  in a stillness of a speech from a priest ordained
they are discovering-composing O lord!, the music in Thy Lyre
and someday We shall sing.

A.

Dream Unchained


.... and little whirlpools
around tender feet
formed in the shallows
of a woody spring,
small fishes and shells
in the playful shallows
reflecting light skimming
on the surface
posing a shine
and trees arming
the rustic breeze
with a freedom
fragrant echoing chirps
unsettled around the
setting sun
shapes of clouds
changing as we gaze
and new stories
emerging from our
hearts resting on eyes
for a vision outside
to a sight within.
Together yet alone
and the time past
glimmering
through poetry
Often clinging together
in the pages
within jumbled verses
and meanings emerge
as an experience
of life so kind
to a day that is past
in a village
on the rocks
by the stream
a setting sun
to skim through
the night with
a dream unchained
I.

~A





All is Smoke


THE SMOKY MIST OF A CAPRICIOUS SPRING,
& SWEATY PUFFS IN A NIGHT OF CAROUSING.

THE SMOULDERING SOUL OF POET IN BEAU MONDE,
& LETTERS BURNED ON AN ANNIVERSARY OF LOSS.

THE PLAYFUL PYRE OF A WELL MEANING LIFE,
& HOPES FROM A WORLD DISCARNATE.

THE DUSTY STOMPING STRIDE OF A FOAL
& WHIFFS FROM A BOILING CAULDRON

THE DESCENDING CLOUDS KISSING THE MOUNTAIN HIGH
& SILENCE OF A SEER IN AN INSENCE LOST

A SIGH, A TOAST, DREAMY TEARS,
BIRTH DEATH, EFFORT, LOSS-REWARD
& A BALLAD FROM THE FAR WEST
ALL IS SMOKE,
.......BUT FOR A DISCERNING EYE.