You are dark, dark,
You are not dark,
But my dark love,
Dark daughter.
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The Jurisprudence Divine
The soul and spiritTo deliver it the judgementTaking in strict confidence.What does the heart say it,What does the mind say,What does the spirit,What does it the soul?Judge you before deliveringTaking knowledge and wisdom in full grip.The system, the custom, the norm,The nomenclature, the protocolUpholding the legal senseRising above human ego, hypocrisy, pride,Greed, bias and prejudiceTo…
So sonorous and melodious,
Nasally loveful and touchingThat I cannot,CannotHow,How lovely and lyricalThe notes,The notes of your voicePitching nasally,NasallyAnd touching the heartAnd the soul,A song of love,A song of heartThat you are striking,That you are singingWith the voice pitchingSo high, so low sometimesCarried with the melodies of love,Love so full of sweet and sad memories.
Whose is the tune the song opens with?
It is a song of love, the pain of melody.It is love that calls, it is love that departs, the remnants remain it here, the residues of meaning, love and search.Listen, listen to what the guitar, guitar is saying, saying, the musical accompaniment, the musical accompaniment?Have you, have youSuch a powerful, powerful song, song,Music, music…
A Muslim maiden
And lovely,So young and promisingIn her burkha,I could not see her,But when peeped I insideThe windowSaw I a heart full of so much loveTaking me to Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan,Azerbaijan, Chechnya.
Kadambari Devi, your pains, the pains of your heart
How did it beat for,Someone who turns dearer and dearerAs for time, circumstance and situationOn whose thresholdThis life is placed on,The corner-stone of time,The passage through which one comes and passes out,Enters and exitsThat want I to discuss it here.Kadambari Devi, it had not been the fault of yours that you loved,Loved someone,Gave your heart…
I see the Naga sadhus
And feel about their journeyFrom Nagaland to Prayag.
And wide,
How,
How
To rear you,
My love,
My daughter?
In the world
Where nobody strives
To know
What it marauds your self,
What it hurts your sentiments
Nobody cares to,
My daughter.
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You give, give me my statue,
Found from the rubbles and ruinsOf the terracotta temples,Centuries old and small brick built,Lying as a mouldering heapOf baked clay and small bricks fallen,The pillars and columns earthed intoAnd dilapidating,Telling of an age gone by!You give me, give the statue,Black, but golden,Black as for lying underOr may be it soAs for to hide in from…
An epic poem Sanskritic in theme,
Miltonic in spirit,Transcendental, cosmic in spirit,But fusing in bothThe orient and the occult,Eastern and Western,Poetry born out of sadhna,The rishi’s love as poetry,Poetry Love Divine.
Kalpurusha, you are kaal, kaal,
You are time and tense,Time, period of it and its duration,Never ending, ever continuing,My kaal, your kaal, his kaal,His time, your time, my time,Time and its periodAnd the passage of itAnd sometimes kaal is but the last time,The bite of doom and destructionAppearing serpentine.Kaal, time, duration, period, basically sense of tense,Samay plainly time,Kaal’s samay, tense’s…
Aapko dekhkar
Aapko dekhkar,Dekh-dekhkar,Aapko dekh-dekhkarKahi,Kashi pyaar na ho jaayei,Ho jayeiAapko,Aapko dekh-dekhkar,Aapko-aapko,Aapki-aapki aankhon ko,Aankhon koDekh-dekhkarKahi,Kahi pyaar na ho jaayei,Jaayei!On seeing youHave started fearing,On seeing you,Seeing-seeing,On seeing-seeing you,Maybe,Maybe it fall I in love,Maybe in,You,On seeing-seeing you,You-you,Your-your eyes,EyesSeeing-seeing themMaybe,Maybe it fall I in love,Maybe it!
A larger bird
And feathered speckled and freckledWith the motleysOf bespangled satins and brocadesGlimmering sand glisteningAs do the stars twinkleSo the peacock dancingIn joy,A blue, blue,Bluish and blackishAnd shiny bird.With a crest over the headWith black shaftsAnd greenish webbing,The peacock dances it,Dances in joyDuring the showers,The downpourWhen the sky is overcastWith clouds,The peacock dances,Dances itShattering the feathersBluish and…
Mother’s love,
Brother’s loveRemember I, remember IThem in my poetry,My mother,My sister,My brotherSo deeply.Where have they gone away,You say it to me?Why are you silent?Mother’s love,Sister’s love,Brother’s love, remember ISo tearfully and with wet eyes.
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Longs for you,
Dark daughter
So affectionate and filial.
You are none, none,
But my daughter,
Lovely daughter,
Dear daughter
And I your father, poor father,
The father of a daughter.
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I love you,
I love you.I hesitate to sayWhen you are before,But say I often,I love you, love youWhen you are not.
Daru mat piyo, yaar,
Buri baat,Daru mat piyo, yaar.Do not drink daru, friend,It is bad to drink daru,It is very bad,Do not drink daru, friend.
Your mother, father, brother and sister,
Something you need to rememberWhich the wife too cannot,What they have given to you,But keep it in a balance.
Which came I to see,
Feel itThat I saw, saw you,Knew, knew you,Came to feel, feel you,You, your presenceAll, all though the picturesAnd photographs of yoursReminiscing you,You, my love!Your album, your albumOf photographs, photographsI glimpsing through,Glancing at and gliding.
The milkman too a leader
With the Milkman PartyVote for Cow SymbolOr the BuffaloOr the Milk Can.
The migrant labourers and workers
Disturb me inwardly toThink about them,Their lives and conditions.The staggered and stranded peopleOn the footpaths of lifeGoing a long way unaware ofWhat it may befall them,Unaware of what it lies ahead of.I feel sorry to see them,They going with bag and baggage,Luggage clumsy and uncouth,Poorly dressed, poorly fed peopleWalking on the side paths of life.
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You A Lonely girl,
A lonely girl!
Dark Daughter, Dark Daughter!
You a lonely girl,
A lonely girl!
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Nomad, where your your home,
Who to be with,What your own,What not,Nomad?I see youOn the platform,At the bus stop,Into the lanesAsking for alms,Gong with!Nomad,Nomad,Where your home,What your identity,Where your landYou belong to,What your purpose of life?Into the strong sun,Under the starlightFacing the hot sun,The colder nightsLie you,Lie you under the trees,On the platforms,At the bus stopsLiving your life!Nomad,Nomad,Your daughters and…
Your blue eyes,
blue, blue,blue, blue,eyes,eyes, eyes,blue, bluetaking me,taking me,me far,far, far,far fromyour,your glue, blueeyes, eyes,your blue, blueeyes, eyesmy love,love,your,your blue,blue, blue eyes,your blue,blue, blue eyes,the girl,girl sitting,sitting withthe blue, blue eyes,blue-blue…
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…
Accept you it or not,
Not a Londonman,But a HindoostaniIn shirt, pants, neck-tie and boots,Not an Englishman,But an Indiaman.
The burning country,
While pinda-dana continuing for the dead father.The burning countryBy river banksUnderneath the peepul treePinda-dana continuing.On the one hand lay it the dry riverWith the burnt logsWhile on the other pinda-dana continuingOn the ghat.Under heat and dust,Sweltering and sweating of heatAnd dust swirling at some nook and cornerPinda-dana continuing.Pinda-dana,Pinda-dana for the soul,The spirit,The soul gone by.A…
God,
Save me, save me fromIndian Shakespeare,Indian Milton,Indian Donne,Indian Wordsworth,Indian Keats,Indian Coleridge,Indian Arnold,Indian Tennyson,Indian Eliot,Everything but Indian.English not, but Indic,Indian poets,Indian non-poets, commoners, poetasters, rhymers,I mean poetrywallahsSpeaking Hindustani English,Hindustani in manner, behaviour and attire,Speaking English like some Hindustani dialect.My God, they are coming, coming,Let me, let me hide in,The poetrywallahs,Asking to call them poets,The great poets…
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I turn to you,
Turn to you,
Dark daughter
For comfort and solace,
For solace and comfort
Whenever sad and sombre,
Sad and sombre,
Broken and frustrated in life!
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The rhetoric against the standoff
I warn againstAs the consequences will be disastrousFor bothIndia and China.
How could the revolutionaries do,
If they had to eliminate, they could have expelled?But to execute in such a way,My god, forgive, forgive you sinnersThey know it not what they sinning againstMan and God!I ask, had they no mercy in them,Had their hearts turned into rocks and stonesOr the human voices they could not on their ears,The voices of pain…
Feels to revert back to, retreat to
Through which came he hereTreading,Passing through the green woodAnd the pastures wildFull of green grass,The leaves of fluttering in the wind,An innocence missed and goneAs for temptation,Fall from heaven,Lust and greed misleading manWith ripples within the human heart,But Nature so pristineWith the ancient orchard of itCalm and sedate,Sometimes furious and wild.
It was indeed lovely
Hugged and embracedThe burkha-clad lassIn the darkTaking her intoMy loveful claspKissing on the cheeksNear the sand dunesOf the desertWhen it was darkWe met each otherAnd love burnt throughThe eyes meeting,Two panting souls met they,Two hearts in loveAnd the lotus bloomed,We the two lovers,The heart bis a temple of love.
Coming and slipping away,
Into a yesterdayTo be a tomorrow again.And one tomorrow the edger-book will complete itOf my entries and exitsAnd I shall go awayWhen my time will run out,Come one tomorrow,Someday when I shall not be.I am waiting for all my tomorrows to be bundled intoTo be shelved outAnd finally to be thrown off to the dust-bin.
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Vast and wide,
Who is my own
Barring you,
You, my daughter?
Under the starry nights,
Stand I near the terracotta temples
And see you, your sculptures,
Your figurines,
Dark Daughter,
I see you and the mystery of the world,
The mystery of love and affection.
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The beaten yoni,
How long will masculinity go exploiting feminity,How long,O, how long?The poor and suppressed yoniUnder the wolfish attackThe lambish yoni,But the sketch lotus like.Rape, loot and plunder,I have been since the hoary days of the past,The woman being dragged, pushed out and taken away.The woman trafficked out, sold to brothels,But none there to hear the shrieks…
Time, will you docket my poems or not?
Or will be thrown away?Who will be the curator of the museum?
The land of the Nagas,
Nagas.Naga ancestry and ethnicity,Naga culture and heritage,Naga vamshas, clans.N.B. The title too a part of the poem as it starts from.
The philosophy of mind,
How to describe itWhat it comes to its plane,How the reflectionAnd distraction of it?My mind, your mind,Human mind,How to analyse it and sayWhat it is on its plane,How the thought and idea,Image and grasp of it?
Friends,
Texas,Thank you, Trump,Senators,Howdy, Modi?What can this Modi do itAll alone, friends and brothers?Howdy, Modi? ,Howdy, Modi? ,Means it,I am fine,You are fine,Modi is fine,As India is,America isAnd none butYou have made it.Friends, everything in India fine.Friends, unity in diversityIs our life,A land of variety,Different speeches and differencesIn food habits and attires.We aim at development,Rural upliftment,…
The song of America
Through youAllen GinsbergThe howl of a generation,The beat and vibe of it,The loitering and fluctuation of it.They going with the cigar packs,Smoking and goingJust like the gypsies,Bootleggers, drug lords and addictsThose pedestrians.Tired with materialism and materialistic pleasures,Where, where are they going,Going to unmindful of, oblivious of all that,Those generationsYoung and gleeful, but sad and tense,Definitely…
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My affection,
My sympathy,
Is my love of heart,
Love of soul,
Love of life,
Love of the world
My love of art,
Symbol,
Myth
And mysticism.
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Salman Rushdie,
Sketch,Sketch I him,Photograph,Photograph IThe personality of his,A man who has stood forThe freedom of speech and expressionIn the worldWith his guts admirable.
The poor drunkard
Always after a bottle.
I think the world is mine,
As I have come to realize it,I am a traveler from farAnd have to go there.
ON World Women Day
SmilingFrom the goggles,Dark sunglasses,Memsahebs.
The gloom is lurking over in the distant
The winds have started blowing hardAnd lo, the kalbaisakhi is comingAfter the daytime heat and temperature,Heat wave and its ruffle!The gloom extending over, the trees rustling by,Winds blowing hard and howling,Followed by the rains lashing,Trees shaking dangerouslyLest be broken.Unsettling and unseating it all,The kalbaisakhi coming with the dark cloudsAnd the lashes of rains,The gloom and…
I saw her breaking stones
Working under the strong sunThe dark-complexioned maidenBut with a good heartBeating the heat and summerMaking the roadsFrom which cross the passers-by,The carts of conveyanceAnd she making the roadways,Working for the bituminous ways.
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Dark the world,
The myths of Creation.
Dark is Kali,
Dark you,
Dark the world,
The ways of life.
Dark you,
Dark the world,
Dark is Kali,
The myths of Creation.
If this be the state,
The state of things,
The go of the world,
If this be…
The things continue to
Be muffled in,
The mysteries laid it not bare,
Shrouding it more
The riddles and the puzzles
Vexing the mind and brain,
Perplexing
What to say, say it?
Dark daughter, drawn to you
I fail to cut the bonds
Of maya-moha, illusion,
What it is dark, let it be, let it be!
Dark daughter,
Dark you,
Dark the world,
The myths of Creation.
Dark daughter,
What it is dark, let it be,
Let it be, my daughter,
As dark is dark!
Dark daughter,
Whenever sad and somber,
I turn to you,
To you for consolation
Glancing the sculptures
And figurines
Of the terracotta temples
And you lying under mist and sunshine
As art and artifacts, myths and motifs
Of love, affection, sympathy
And bonding, relationship,
Daughters, dark daughters!
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I have seen so many people,
Like Tarek Fateh,Where does he get his stock from,Comics,The laughing stock from?A comedian so humorous and funny,Jocund and jocular,Light and entertaining,Logical and reasonable?A reporter, an investigative T.V. journalist,A political activist, a broadcaster,Writer and debater,He is extraordinary.It is beyond expectationHow he can ridicule, buffoon,Caricature and cartoonThe fanatics, fundamentalists.Their mind-set, narrow thinking,Life, behavior, food habit,Manner of talking…
Atal Bihari Vajpayee
A statesman,An orator,A diplomat,A nationalist,A patriot,A humanist.
George Bernard Shaw,
It would have been great!
One of loot, plunder and upheaval,
But the public IndiansAnd they workedGoing against the people,Their faith and belief,How can it be?The temples were broken,The libraries burnt,Is the benefit of reading medieval India?
One thing that it has done
Each and everyPrimary school,High schoolAnd collegeAnd other establishmentsAnd organizationsHighly politicized,Intriguing,Indulging in conspiracies,Bossiness and bossism,Sitting and talking and gossipingAnd working not,Shirking and allegingAnd they will do,What the secretary says,Not the office boss.Join the union,Form it and do it,Shirk working,Live under the banner,Take the credit always,Give it not to others,Behaving as a bossEven though you are not,Pose…