Sometimes
Taking
the bitter green chilly
A bit more
Unknowingly,
How would,
Would they have,
I mean the Europeans
For the first time
As I taking the most bitter one
Jumping,
Feeling restless,
Taking water,
Sucking in,
Asking for sugar?
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The CPI(M) is very good at acting,
And culminating,Orchestrating the thingsIn it favour,Their tactics and strategyNone but the people livedUnder the rule and reignCan say aboutThe Red terrorAnd the Red bastionAnd the Red bullsWreaking havoc,How have they tortured,Heckled and harassedAnd ragged to suicides,None but men livedCan say them.Who criminalized politics first,Capturing the areas,Keeping in the command of,Putting unnecessary pressure upon,Eliminating and eradicatingThe…
Your cheeks are like flower petals,
How lovely, how appleyish,How rosy!
As a poet of Bombay,
Of Bombay,Bombay and its history,The history of BombayFrom an island to a metropolitan cityTo a mega one.
Poetry is poetry,
Black and white?
God knows
Wherefrom did he his doctorateIn English,A Ph.D. not from London,But from India,Which but I cannotWhich university from,But a doctorate in EnglishAs far as know it?
I said to you the story of my life
I want to hear from you remaining silent,All about your house, family, place and surroundings,Will you not tell me?Now-a-days who talks to whom, who has got the time to talk to,All the big talkers, I mean the gosip-masters of yesteryearsAre almost gone now,Is it not the truth?
Poor wife and poor children,
How does he come drunk and in tipsy,
Intoxicated and drunken,
Unable to stand on feet?
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Bhagabati’s beautiful eyes
Want I to chiselIn my poetry.Bhagabati’s cursory eyesDivineTrimmed well.
A handful,
To be immersed in,Swept intoThe river watersTelling ofWhat it lived it here,What saw I it here.Ashes,Ashes,The bodily ashes,My ashes,Ashes,The remains of the body.
I am a man of heart and my heart it is that you know it not
Never have you tried to know that,To feel it,How the pains raking it!My pain the pain of my heart,My own,Which but you know not,How does it rake the poor heart!Many a day have I thought that I shall not,But my nostalgia, homesicknessWhom to tell, whom to share withAs my days spent they thereAnd I think…
Where the birds sing, dance, hop and play
Where the rivulet murmurs byWhere the arcades of trees shadow the regionWhere landscapes secluded and lonely delight byInto a world free from din and bustle,Dull and drab city life,Urban space and areaInto that orchard plot want I to sit and opineIn confidence,What man has,What Nature has?
He speaks, behaves and delivers the talk in such a way
That he is a man speaking to a man,A gift of the gab,The pride of his,Just the rhetoric to click.A thinktank of applied Marxism,An ideologue,A negativist is he,A criticizer and commentator of all,Cannot see good in it all,To turn and twist and to presentHis technique.A master planner, a mastermind of all,He is a strategist,A master…
The critics
Have gone awayOne by oneLeaving me so lonely,Dishevelled and distraught,So devastated and disparagingWith nobody aroundTo hear me.Now the courtyard is lonely,So the house,Nobody is here,Nobody is thereTo hear,Hear my things,Old members haveExited,New ones leastInterested in.
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May be somewhat
Protected,
But the Devil,
Probably enhances
Evil.
Is this said
Just not to take the blame,
And is it Not the Devil,
But, WE
Who are the source of
All evil?
Because the hellish
Things that some have done!
Unimaginably,
Wrong and hideous,
Indicate,
That we create
Our own hateful,
Turbulent, upheaval,
Murdering innocence
And the weakest,
Blaming, mental depravity,
For our blindness
Our Evil,
Which, by now should be
Totally rejected,
In order to make
This World,
More Livable.
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If poets ruled the World,
Nothing,Would get doneBut at least liesAnd deep corruption,Would not fly,Too busy writing poemsTo send people to die,Or chop upEach other’s hide,With intriguesConvoluted by, very foulAnd criminally inducedPolitical rot and actions!
Love,
At any momentAt any time,You don’t evenNeed a rope,Just useHate and bloodFilled words,And in momentsThe victimWill succumbAnd painfullyDieFrom a brokenHeart.
I miss the Ocean,
All the emotion,It may convey,The dancing waves,All tipped in white,And the seagulls game,As they cry in flight.I miss the Ocean,But I miss you more,As Stars weave dreams,That won’t come ashore,For they are made,Of the wind’s ocean sprayAnd so much of our World,Is thus, blown away,For when Love is gone,What’s left to say?
Poems are not happy,
They are poignantly sad,Life is also, painfully sad.Happiness,A greeting Card,That can be had,Perhaps?For one fleeting momentThat Never lasts.
I am a Patriot,
I hold up high,The red, white and blue.You are my Country,My refuge, my pride,You satisfy,My want for belonging,My need to try,To uphold justice,Freedom and peace,A love in me,That will never cease.I’ll try my best,To be worthy of you,Always grateful,Never untrue.
Some poets live
Where Poetry,Is!Exists,Only to be lovedAnd shared,As a heart-throbbingMiracleOf It!Happy is the poetThat, becauseOf this fulfillingInextinguishable,Pure love,Is never reallyAlone,And only livesFor it.
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It’s perhaps when best they write,
Day-time dreams, imagination’s flight,
So being awake at night, is no mistake,
Creativity never sleeps.
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Dear lovely Computer,
Time traveling redeeming,The things I have seen,The Past, Films and musicThe Present, new song,The Future, uncertain,So much can go wrong,And yet I do love you,I’ll follow it AllYou are My Computer,My own Crystal Ball.
When you read a good poem,
They’re written feelings,And sometimes,The best you’ve ever heard,But other times those feelings,In sharing,May even deeply hurt.
Life is strange
So many peopleAnd yet so aloneSocial media,Made out of stoneAs we constantlyGlide away, slide away,Stranger from StrangerMade out of StyrofoamFeelings leftAt homeAnd always crying,All Alone…
So many things
So much was left behindThe love not had,The dreams not filledThe words I could notFind…The hands of TimeWill not turn backNo matter, how we tryNor how, loudly we cry.
JUSTICE!
A beautiful word,That could bring together,This suffering World.JUSTICE,So true and so clear,But so far away,When we think it’s so near.
Water, Mountain and Sky,
Blue Planet, we know but one,Take care of it’s Beauty,If strangled, we’re done.
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May Love,
Poetry
To the same degree
That is,
Vehemently!
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Possessed,
To write the best,The most profound,I can,My feelings,Thru most words,I sound.The quest,To touch the skyOr at least, tryThe unknown heavensPoetically, mystify,Where perfection liesAnd rose colored dreams,Abound.The Stars,Lights without sound,The Soul,Lifting us upFrom the groundLove,The summit of every life,When found.
About Poets,
That most,Cannot writeAbout thingsThey don’t believe inOr even feelIn a very strong way.Poetry is the sincerestForm of expression,Maybe, the very first,That tried to portrayLove,In a written way,As glorious lightFound,And dearest possession.
Music in my head
Transferred into words,I’m coming homeA pleasurable giftI’m not alone!Even now,That Autumn colorsFade away,Music and I,HopefullyWill still haveSomething beautifulTo say.
And the pain,
That in vain,Floods my heart,And the tears of the Past,Guide my ship and my mast,And the mystery Train,That has come here at last,It will take me away,To the Sea of my past,Where the Seagulls display,Their eternal ballet,As they screamingly say,Love and dreams do not last.
More than
It’s the feelingsThere infusedThat in the Poem,Count.Being able to communicateThru abstraction, feelingsWithout being, face to faceBut thru some mysteriousAnd supernatural, graceThat seems to naturally comeTo the poet, as the poemTakes shape and space,Becomes, alive!Communicates,Its inner lifeWith no mistakes.A divine and inseparableConception of Love,A marvelous World ofAbstraction,Where the most intimateFeelings take place,Anchoring sensationsAnd satisfaction,Like nothing elseThat…
You are what you feel
To Be,Nurture, good feelingsPeace, stability,Love is the best feelingFollowed by sincerity.
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Therefore,
I must write,
The Imperative,
Sincerity,
Of my heart.
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Day dreaming and flight,
All else isSaid and done,Including Love,That’s probably what,Poetry is all about.Poem’sLife’s treasures,For mind and soul,That Some,Like, those thatSo, need love,Simply cannot doWithout.
You are so meaningful to me,
And I dream you in every song,A Love like this,Can never be wrong.
Write to your heart’s content,
White peace on white paper,Not a flag of surrender,But a whole new view to render.
A love so deep
But to no logic did it heel,It lingered there,With none to spareIn cherished careWith every fault eluded.For true love sees no faultsOf the beloved’s inner notes,All is a perfect melody,As far as heart and soul can see.
Up and up the hill we went,
Now we are on straight free fall,Losing Country, reaching small,Lying, cheating, muddy crawlIs there no shame left at all?
Great Films,
Laced with emotion,Soaring in the wind,To places where,Not even imagination,Has ever been.