Slanting Eyes,
Crystal clear.
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The ganjaraja taking the chillum
And smoking,I mean taking the puffs fromAnd the mood changing, colouring,The eyes reddeningAnd he growing light as well as moodyIn the talks of his.
Sylvia, you the darling daughter of your daddy,
Lovely and emotionally alive,Nervous and sentimental,Ted Hughes, you could not feel it.But the talent seemed to be beaming withAnd breaking forth,Dispelling all that was dark in consciousnessOr underneathAnd you longed to express your self,I mean the ailing self in poetry.The heart and mind of a woman,The troubles, tribulations and tensionsOf the motherly self,The fissures and…
Was it a literary movement
Or poetry set to musicAnd sung into the streetsBy the beatniksInduced by jazz, drug, sexOr bohemian life styleOr Zen Buddhism?
They said it poetry is imagery and photography which I understood it not
As had I known it as lyrics embedded into,Poetry as musical thought and lyrical effusions,Poetry as the lyrics of life,Lyricism sung to the lyre.Again, said he, said it they and read I that poetry is imagery, photographyAnd the poet a photographer, an imagist,With the camera photographing, taking the snaps of,The media lensman not, the modern…
On the road,
Some, somebody meetAnd some, somebody we miss,Miss weOn the road,The road of life,Life, lifeTurning this way,Turning, turning that wayOn the road,The road of lifeSome, somebody meet we,Some, somebody miss we,Miss we.
The myths of Nachiketa and Yama,
Lord Mahavira, Goutam Buddha,Satya, ahimsa, shantih,Bhakti-gnan-karma,Daya, maya-moha,Moksha, nirvana,Mukti, vandanaLie in Gitanjali,The broodings overThe Soul and the Over Soul,The Mind and the Over Mind,The Self and the Greater Self.