The Formless Brahma.
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First, my father
Then my aunt,My mother,My youngest brotherAnd my eldest brotherOne by one.Now I am alone,Alone,All aloneIn my life.
Is but a family man
The family members,Mother, father,Brother, sister,Wife,Daughter, sonAnd poetry to himAn album,A photo albumOf family membersAnd he opening the pagesOf the memoir.
Someone’s dream,
Someone’s soul,Dreams twinkling like stars,Dreams bedecking, dreams beautifying,The desire to be with the stars,To go and catch them.Blue, blue the sea,Blue, blue waters,Blue, blue the scenery and landscape,The ripples playing overWith the winds blowing and passing byAnd musical melodies breaking.My dilemma,It’s not your dilemma,It’s, it’s not my dilemma,But the dilemma, dilemma,The dilemma of yours, yours…
Touching the cheeks,
Do you love me,Do you love meTouching the cheeksAnd the nose?Pulling the cheeksAnd caressing the hair,Trying to appease you,I want to ask you,Do you love, love me?
Take you the bouquet
White jasmines for you,A bouquet of rajanigandha sticksWhitely redolent bloomsBut wet with my tears,Falling tearsAnd its,It’s my remembranceAnd it’s,It’s my memory of you!(For my youngest brother)
When to give philosophy give
Not goodAs the fools and illiteratesUnderstand it not,Understand they the philosophy of the blunt,The lathi being thrashed.
Nirgun Brahma.
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Revenge,
The word,Revenge, revenge,Peopleburning with revenge,Waiting to take the revengeFor what,For insult, hatred, vengeance,Human lust, want, envy, vieAnd for theseRevengeful,Revengeful.ButI knowit not,NotWhy is he taking,Taking revengeFor what,What unseen fault of mine,For what, what flaw of mineMy previous or presentDoing?
O tell me, where my daughter is!
Reared and looked after so much so care,Shading the from the sun and shower,Say, say you,where she is!O, ask yopu, ask you not,Your daughter,Your daughter lies, lies it there!My God, my God, O, my God,What are you showing to me, Cruel Destiny,Proud Master,Is this am I to see,The poor daughter of mine lying poorly,In a…
Swami Vivekananda never wanted to be a poet
Saints are singers,The singers of the Divine,Telling of sanyasa, leaving of homes,Becoming of saints,Cutting the bonds of maya-moha,Taking to renunciationThat is vairagya.But Swamiji is first of all an Advaita VedantistBelieving in Advaita Vedanta,A griha-tyagi, home-leaverHe is but a sanyasin,A saint, a renouncer,A vairagiAnd above all a philosopher saintOf IndiaLearned and poetical.
Anti-racism,
Okay,But what,What these to doWith violent demonstrations,Arson and bootyAnd thuggerySetting on fire and runningFor cover and shelter?Under the pretext of all these,The politicos will come light,Get the media coverage,Will turn into spokesmen overnight,National heroesAs this is the time ofMaking a name free of costWithout striving for.What this nonsense for,What this hooliganism,ThuggeryAnd booty,Where are they going,What…
They too know it that it is a poet’s house,
The frogs, lizards, bats, owls, pythons, jackals, wild cats, orioles,Hedgehogs, water birds,How dear my house is to them!The frogs, three types of, commonly found grey frogs,Sometimes coming as a big jumperThe greenish well or tank living frogsAnd the rarely found plastic-coloured strange tree-climbing frogs,Moving upwards,If on your shirt, it will not like to go away…
Radha
To beA foreignerGirl.An EnglishOr American,A Polish,DutchOr Norwegian Radha.But RadhaIs RadhaWhetherIndianOr foreigner.Love chasteAnd celestialAnd hearty,CosmicAnd divine.Metaphysical,Abstract,Transcendental,PureAnd sacred.O, ask it not,Question it not,Radha is Radha,The heart is pure,The soul is!