AMONG THE PYRAMIDS

Stumbling across the chronicle of life

six hundred fifty years ago 

I met you first in the desert of Egypt.

There in my dream I wrote my first poem,

as rhythmic as the symmetry of Pyramids, 

as mysterious as the great sleep of Mummies. 

Overwhelmed history has destroyed every proof.

Now there is no mark of your smile, 

nor is there any trace of your fear. 

None of the portrait is on the walls of the Pyramids, 

not a broken piece of bangle remained behind,

for further course of excavation.

Crude history has well accomplished its role. 

The breath of a long dream has cut small. 

Thus made me to wander among the Pyramids 

to unveil the camouflage over your history. 

 * * * Published in The Journal of Indian Writing in English (Vol.29, January 2001, No.1), Gulbarga and in the Newspaper The Asian Age (30th July’ 2000), India.

POETRY OF METAPHYSICS

O’ poet
sick you are,
sickening are your poems.
For you
suffering means an arrangement
of few melancholic words,
for you,
peace means solitude of The Himalayas,
for you,
life means seclusion of vision from reality,
also for you
death means living a worldly life.


Contradiction is your seed of existence,
failure is your voice of thoughts,
O’ poet
metaphysics is meaningful
and is source of poetry for you
but not thousands normal humans
who could ever breath a word in your poetry.

* * *
Published in Rashtriya Sahara, MonthlyMmagazine,Dec’1999, India

BETTER TOMORROW

Badly entangled in hope and desire
suffocating endlessly for a fresh breath,
fear eats away body and mind
meaningless music and books do not come to solace.

Night dilutes to day,
day brings more pain and sufferings,
more fresh hopes and desires
but helpless as ever human struggles for his dream.

Each historic day ends in darkness of night,
dream surface every time a day succumbs,
thoughts storms the brain
and the quest for better tomorrow continues.

***
Published in Rashtriya Sahara, Monthly Magazine,July’2000, India and in the Newspaper The Asian Age (26th Dec’1999), India.

IN THE DARKNESS OF BRAIN

A glittering spot in the darkness of brain,
your existence somewhere is eminent,
a hope still remain in the valley of confusion.

Rain yet to come,
thirst remain unquenched as before,
your arrival is awaited in my blind vision.

Search is still on
nothing is left un-turned,
pages of the book still left open
and the story has been read again and again
but nothing has been discovered other than illusion.

Could be your existence is ethereal,
could be you only live in dream.
But hope still clings on
and the glittering spot remain for ever
in the darkness of brain.

* * *

Published in the Newspaper The Asian Age (4th Apr’1999), India In the title “In Brain’s Darkness”

DORMANT THOUGHTS

Life drags on
Thoughts becomes dreams, dreams
becomes thoughts.
Questions like
“Will you be my beloved?”
Remains dormant over years
On the tip of the tongue.
Death wins no wars
Tear drops don’t console
Winning matters and winning matters.

Smashed head over the concrete
Spills blood all over
Sympathetic words don’t makes winner,
A virus germinates
But death is no where to protect.
Words remains capped in the brain
Rusting and stinking with time,
No cranial capacity can hold it for ever,
May be it will fall like winter leaves from a tree.
One winter, another winter
Many more winters,
Still mouth remains numb.
Skin wrinkles, no cosmetic come to rescue
Hope still hang on over another hope
May be someday I will win
May be someday my speech will comeback.

* * *
Published in the Newspaper The Asian Age (4th Apr’1999), India