And is ladylove
But a Lamia.
A poet sensuous
Of beauty, truth and goodness,
A flower-smeller
Telling of the scents
A romantic poet
Of love and beauty his
Is a lover’s heart
Of pensive brooding.
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Was he a revolutionary,
Or a poetIdealist,Who,Who was he?A romanticOr a poet revolutionary?
Even now the people shudder at
Your troopers coming in hordesOf the nomadic and barbaric peopleTo attack.
The giraffe-like okapi of Congo
The strange animalGiraffe-likeBut marked otherwiseIn the zebra wayBut differentlyWith the linings on the legsAnd ankles,Horizontal linings,Stripes and rings on the legsAnd the ankles white.The chocolate-colored brown red okapiWith the long neck,Short horns under-covered,Giraffe-patterned,But zebra-marked.
Kundalini,
What is kundalini?Where the Key to Power,What Power is it?Hath Yoga openingThe door of Kundalini,Where the Coiled Serpent sitting,Where the Thing Spinal,How the Chakras,The ChakrasAnd what Kundala?The spiral coils of consciousness,The Power Within You,The Power Outside YouAnd what about the Nabhi,The Nucleus?
A darpiya, Indian daru taken
Counting the stars,Grumbling and fumbling,Abusing and shouting,Singing ansd talking.Indian daru and Indian darpiya, daru-drunkAnd having taken country liquor,Lies he fallen Mr.Darpiya,Into the bushes unable to stand,Under the open talking to the starsAnd sometimes near the drains.
To capture your photographs
To feel your presence,how beautiful are you to look at!I have bought a camera for youTo capture your photographs,To reel your picturesFor our love story.
And his ladylove
But a Lamia.
A poet sensuous
Of beauty, truth and goodness,
A flower-smeller
Telling of the scents
A romantic poet
Of love and beauty his
Is a lover’s heart
Of pensive brooding.
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A blackboard
To be writtenOtherwise blank.
I cannot leave you weeping,
This I have not learnt itAs your tears,Falling tearsWill not,Will not let me sleep,Sleep anymore!
Ananda-atma,
God, Ananda-atma,Your Ananda-atma!Ananda-atma,Leaving it all,God, Ananda-atma,Leaving it all here!God, Your Ananda-atma,Ananda-atma,God, Your Ananda-atma,God!Leaving it all,Leaving at all to You,To You, God,Ananda-atama!O, Lord,Lord, Ananda-atma,Your Ananda-atma,Your, Only Yours!The soul,The departed soul has left,Left for the abode,Now only but Ananda-atma!The soul,Transmigratory soul knew I not,Knew I not, God,The soul, soul.The soul,The soul passes throughI knew it notWhich I…
A blank paper,
Is my life,The more wanted I toThe more got it not written,The more wanted i toGot it not, not written,A blank paper,Blank paper isMy life.
Bhagabati’s beautiful eyes
Want I to chiselIn my poetry.Bhagabati’s cursory eyesDivineTrimmed well.
Was he a broadcaster,
A rebelOr an idealist,A theoretician,A leaderOn the forefrontOf a literary movementWith his manifesto?Who was,Who was heEzra Pound,The rebel broadcasterDoing the anti-American propagandaAs for the fascist forcesOr of talking ofWrong American policiesSelfish and imperialisticDealing with power lobbies,Caucuses and diplomacy?