I with my skeletoned beloved,
Bony, frail and feeble,
Going to make a home,
In a world
Raked by acid rain, climate change
And atomic summer.
God, save us,
God, O God!
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Who is this Quichotte,
Whose creation is this?Quichotte definitely not there, but Cervantes’ Quixote.Medieval chivalry not, but spy thrillers done with the brainOf the protagonist.Who the Sancho PanzaTelling the story in Salman’s Quichotte?Who the Alanso Quijano after all in the end?
I think of life,
What it has taken from me?
Devi Durga,
How to hear the footsteps falling,The footfall of Hers,How to hear the anklets resoundingThat She comes, comes, comes,How to feel the aroma,How to view Her with reverence,How to feel that Motherly Consciousness?
On finding none around me to speak in English, I trying my best to speak in English
O, how are you!And lo, the dog too is smelling me, behaving strangely, standing on half the bodyWith two legs on meAnd speaking strangely,Trying to lick my mouth,Grumbling and growling!
It was broadcast on the radio, aired on the waves
As rumoured by the early temple-visitors,Lord Ganesha sipping milk,People thronged the temples with rock-statuesTo feel the Divine SpectacleOf Ganesha drinking milk,The euphoria gripping the people.The news spread it far and wide,The broadcast aired on the radio explainedFrom foreign scientificallyAs the statue goes slantingSo one cannotThe milk streaming down,But the spectacle continued it unnoticedTill the timeAnd…
If your son isnot a good boy,
If your son is not good,But a bad boy,What to be done with?If your son is not good,I not goodThen what to,What to say it?