3-poems in other mother tongue.

1
upon utterance
i stepped out of myself :
thereafter emptiness prevails.
2
war
I am the child of armistice.
This sociology,
Why it left you, and,
pushing me in to the war !
Now I burn every day.
Only the flames are different.
3
Death
Your eyes
Used to play with me.

Me on the bed
And, you
Glossy on the wall.
(himanshu)

God the way I see it

( Short poems )
God the way I see it

I hate when someone
Dies on Sunday.
My day off
–
I die
And my eyes are still,
I see things around me, inexpressible.
–
I was witness to
So many deaths in my lifetime.
One of them was mine.
–
Tell god
I am tired of these visits
With condolences.
Afterwards I cannot remember
Them all
In my photographic memory.

–

Brooding about you

You are standing alone
In middle of the station.

Your stillness:
A male sadness.

You look beautiful there
Like a one pillar palace
Where windows, peeping, and the blue are at height
But also deep like memories.

In short
You are memories
And, sadness.

4-5-2008

two unknown

from your eyes
I enter as a stranger
like your dream
I wandered rhythmically like bhavaiyas
at night in the black mirror of closed eyes
rain restarts our puppet show,
we are always together in every act.
and, thereafter sleeps together in a box:
two unknown

A snap shot of your sobs

Swinging rain
In the corrugation of the roof
Unfolds the night
And drop by drop
From the dripping edge of the eyes
Mingles into the eternal sound
While falling silent on your breast.

A poetry about us in general

Like yesterday, I met you on the street
And the asphalt was sizzling as usual,
In the puddle of sunshine the police station was idle like a buffalo,
Though pitch black shadows falling from the tree, night remained absent.
A few roofing tiles slid down,
And broken pieces looked like clay found from mohanjodaro.
In spite there was no myth to it,
No deep references or past.
In it was an empty narrowness of being nothing:
Our existence is not in repetition.

Where I live

I was deceived by your lips
And Sanskrit poetry described your teeth as pomegranate seeds
In reality they are lipstick red
Please do not smile, the fire red
Sun also deceived like you.
Everything is composed of color
Whether the window is open or closed.
I am standing on your canvas
Look at me!
What would you fill me with?
When all colors are full of pain
And death is comedy

preface

From
Birth to death
– and the early unknowns –
It lived in all wandering,
It is acknowledged in
The preface of my book :

I return to the
Aliquote language of it.

To catch a breath

Burnt dust
Squeaks under the chaidyas.*
To catch a breath in his eyes
He made a visor with his palm,
Respectfully a child sat beside the bushy fence,
In the brittle sunshine dust devils swirl around them.
The child with squinted eyes looked through the fence,
On a fluttering hand of the scarecrow
A bird was swinging
And screaming at intervals.

* kind of hand made leather shoes designed to squeak. Mostly used in the rural area of India by the natives.

Ennui

The advertisement
Standing beside me, asked
Everyday, do you recognize your desire?

I stare at it
With my beautiful blurry emptiness
Hanging from my waist
In a romantic white urban ennui…