That grape I never got , yet knew was sweet & never sour
The flower that bloomed in my heart spreading fragrance
A song I heard in a dream , but haunted me while awake
A memory that I try so hard to forget but remains
forever in consciousness
Those moments I want to hold on to , but they speed away
However much I fill , it empties reflecting my hollow self
It is that small earthen lamp burning silently in front of God…..
Translation by me , he is my father and this is from his collection ‘Zero outside and Zero inside ‘ He suffered a massive heart attack on 24th February 2017( 3 days ago) being a doctor I was able to see to it that he was helped with in one hour of the attack , a stent was put in the anterior descending branch of left coronary artery by an excellent cardiologist. Dad loves life and I have inherited it , it was Mahashivratri. A day of worship to Lord Shiva who conquers death …. I am happy my father is alive and with me….
My breathing is strained , bronchi clogged ...a needle in the throat ... fever rises in my blood , eyes burn ..... bones are felt in side the legs.. muscles are sore...head is heavy with your thoughts...back aches of a time when I was fighting invasion.... someone plucked out the pink flowers... Why ? For a God who roams the graveyards , wears ash and conquers death ? I hear the distant chants ...like your songs.....winter ended last night with your dreams. My body is missing the dream ... wanting more fever ..missing you is better than forgetting .... ah it must be delirium.... lucid intervals....
Light reaches faster than sound
When we meet .. in the sky
Now , how is it that we never meet
Yet there is thunder ?
I have no umbrella when it rains poems.
and thunders rumors.
We met unexpectedly
Yet it caused no flutter
We greeted each other like two clouds
aware of deliberate drifting apart
never came together for thunder , lightning or showers…
All I remember is the little star waiting for me in the blankets
Your eyes full of reproach….
No two clouds have the same waters
That emotion can always be reversed ,
He mocked at her
He: You are trying to find a word
That cannot be reversed
To describe a feeling
that is notoriously reversible
Palindrome for love?
She: Of course, Abelard and Heloise.
Heloise actually said
“Let me be your whore”
and he married her….
He: They lived in letters
They loved in letters
Was that love or fantasy?
Their tombs were united
By Miss Bonaparte much later
Professor Higgins is real.
Ego is evidence.
She was furiously indignant
Not every man is
Professor Higgins of Pygmalion..
Bernard Shaw was merely writing a play
It is far from real.
The argument progressed
She: Penelope turned down 108 suitors
Till Odysseus returned
He: Homer was blind
Another round of applause………
He had no light of his own
He merely reflected the Sun
shining in a foreign country
He was inconsistent , consistently
vanishing at fortnights
He caused no growth except dreams
He was not deferential to a monastery
Nor contemptuous of a whorehouse
Both were free to have dreams
Lovers merely used him for their
pick up lines
Many babies opened their stubborn mouths
to be fed by mothers wanting to
close the doors of a bustling kitchen
We all need an illusion to pass the night
He is the biggest illusion
to all the lonely sleepless eyes
On the edge, space is so wide
Wide enough to keep me alive
Life is more alive on the edge
I have lived here all my life…..
I am not your Saturday night palsy
I am the pins and needles of your words
My curves are not like that wine bottle
Not fragile nor likely to cut or cause a bleed
Intoxicating may be
I remember the eyes like black coals about to catch fire
Spreading a warmth in winter nights
You cannot get over me like flu
Or a bad case of thrombophlebitis
I probably happened like the rare drug
That never expires…..
A life time placebo ….that does not cure
( to flame catcher / a muse )
I always knew that we could speak like this , we could speak anywhere , a language that only two of us could understand. Or after sometime we could be convinced that only the other understood a language or any language. In an ocean we could make shells like oysters , patiently hoping that one day the other would find the pearls. Like a child lost in an unfamiliar house of a distant relative , yet seems to know the staircase as a stair case , begins to climb not knowing where it would lead suddenly gets frightened. Does not know if language is better or silence…. I am there between language and silence…. All these pearls are yours. There are many categories of silences… this is the kind of silence patience has… inside the earth.. the silence after prayers…the silence of intimacy when I know you are near. It did take you too many light years to reach me….. you wanted tears ? Not words ?
Don’t touch me how he did
As though he was touching or making
a wound prepared to moan or howl
Touch me as if there was never
a beginning nor ending
Touch me like an awareness
of a poem in which I lose my self and find my self
Touch me before anything bad happens…….