FIRST LOVE ON THIS BRIDGE

Fifty years ago, this bridge was lonely, approach-road was being constructed, no high rise building was there, and sound of the flowing water of channel can be heard.

One day I find a girl used came to this bridge every day in summer, and summer after,

Who drew attention as fuel to see her and to arrange a situation to talk with her,

She might be from a nearby village, now a part of city. One occasion, I ventured to speak rapidly, with syllables quivering with the sense of nervousness, and I said,

-  “Hi, I think you live nearby.”

She did not answer. She stood still, and looked at me with her beautiful eyes, As if I could not stir her silent kingdom for the answer. After a little while, she turned towards her way from where she came. To me, she was interesting and loving.  And I kept my way continuous with my attempts, and she used to come daily, as usual.

One day I went inching closer to her body and immediately after she opened ANCHAL of her sari and swung upon me and I stood like stone draped with beautifully crafted cotton art work of Anchal.

-          “Use this perfume. Then I will talk to you.”

I stood inside her ANCHAL as if I stood on her condition that insisted me to honor her request, that to be saved privately, As if she would give me all her heart if I did perform exactly what she asked. The smell of her body, perfume, beating of heart – all gave me a feeling of love, excitement, newness of young change, desire to stay in this way many a day, a true way to think about, to live about, to touch around, to hold about, to sink within, to dwell with, to obey her words, above this place, this region, and overall above this hemisphere to the universe.

My speech still remains in my heart.

TANKA

Now looking at you

In this morning, I open

My heart to you for

Love, like flowers, to get feeling,

In the warmth of breathing.

2

Mind filled with love,

Sun-rays move into colors,

I see the leaves,

Hopeful shore, as a man,

I breathe in the nature.

OLD AGE HOME

Away from old home, age being melting gold,

Searching for service in a new home,

With all sides open and loving companion

Those I want at least for last lap of my journey,

I roam from place to place with wishes

And with eyes to feel cool in new establishment

Away from burnt quotes those are still spilling

Over mind, not even blanketed being staying

Outside of old periphery scarcely three years ago,

I want to have a shelter for pleasant sun,

To love and to live there with peace

And beautiful caring personnel in that home,

That I have dreamed to live for rest of life,

But I am not blessed with vision to be reality,

As every moment I arrive at a historical epitaph,

That makes new generations alert, life is short,

And life can’t be free from pain and anxiety,

Always it favors to breathe in smoke, mingled.

LOVE IN THE MONTH OF APRIL

Picture Credit: Bluebell Books Twitter Club 

Long ago, there was once love, she was young,

Live with sensation, but his speeches held up,

Line of words, book of openness fell apart,

Loss of spirit, to talk with her became silent,

Lingering, courage demurred, fear got momentum,

Lest she would not speak to him, feeling ignored.

Like prayers, he stood alone like sorrowful morning,

Listening to her words uttered to someone else who

Little spoke, and he did not understand if it was

Large for one’s talks of service above their company,

Long, perhaps longer, he waited to talk with her,

Lying alone, on shore for holding everything in

Love, to take her as lady of his heart, no jealousy,

Lined up, he preferred to promise for journey,

Life’s partner for all time on utterance of priests,

Letting values of a husband to say wisdom honor.

Long time passed, and now she is sitting, before him,

Leaning in a sofa of the banquet hall with her daughter,

Looking at her, he thinks past is a brief moment,

Loving someone for all time is pleasing and forgiving.

BRAVE CHILDREN

Picture Credit: Blue bell books.blogspot.short-story-slam-week-86

Kids are gentle in the morning light,

Being innocent, they enjoy every moment,

While playing, keeping mind pure as light,

In their endless searching and learning with

Elders who help them to train nascent minds

To know the truth to find plucking of apples

In the orchard is like gathering knowledge

About life and nature and bees, altogether,

Those hold history, story, poetry and

Thus they move into speeches of God’s men,

And know good persons, who say about truth,

About light, day and night thus created for

Distinguishing what it is good or evil

And they learn talking about good things.

They will sacrifice for others who love them.

THE SUN AND THE FLOWER AND LOVING CASTLES

These red flowers bloom with the sun’s burning rage,

They remain alive tucked within periphery of greens,

It brings me to think glimpses of events of last year,

Here is celebration of New Year in firmament of cheers,

Beneath are the warring and surviving zeal with landscape.

Spring with dry meadow, hot crust of the earth makes

Every green dry, yet life is not killed, two pigeons, together,

Move around meadow, and pick corn into hedge and grass,

Those hide corns strewn over dry land of cultivation,

With amorous stories those are still figuring out like

Magnets around crystalline wetness, waiting for rain in its

Season, two birds set off one sentiment of soft spring.

Para-metrical elongation creates labor that blooms

The eccentric pasture for living and connoisseur of loving,

When beautiful footsteps move to cross the land

For home that is not abettor of leaving, but waiting for

Answer from her, that she may try to bridge loving castles.

Shadow, grass blades and tree-trunk support walking through. 

WHISPERS OF LOVE

1

There is whisper of love in air,

An opening of real longing

From heart of a searching mind,

To find and receive resonance,

From another soul of intimate one,

Perhaps your name is there

To make reasons with you in love.

2

Rumors are belligerent aspects of life.

And moving into invitation to stride,

Over logical feeling and decoding an event,

To walk on a path of reality,

Through body and mind, brings easy mobility,

Like sweet breeze of musical brain,

To receive instructions for love and to be loved.

LOVE FOR THE NEW YEAR 2017

She spends time in making herself softer

In every move and breathing by learning,

Transforming, perfecting, controlling self,

Through coverage of web idols, blushing

Her beautiful, in sweet lips, in soft voice,

To be more beautiful, more attractive,

Responding to silence, to fill up space

With desire, the nature has created it

Through its charms and warmth,

She thinks she is not wrong on her grace.

She finds a listener many years walking

On snow, across a binding stretch, and

He can record all in dreaming, desiring,

Yet fails to display everything matching to

Her wishes, portraying as distant person,

Although having lovely expression, as

Chatting on social webs-sites does not imprint

Walking along virtual space over real stream,

Making her determined to walk along

For more interactions in the New Year sunlight. 

LOVE AND LONG SILENCE

I am moved because I know it is white

Down from clouds to flowers

On the way of whole tour,

Somebody shows me love for beauty.

I never say to detract you,

Even at the time when I am crushed

And I am here to call all beauty -

Grass, flowers, clouds are neighbors.

I do still hold child’s feeling,

With blooming of Kans flower,

At every step of growing concept

Under the sky it is version of delight.

The cool breeze accommodating clouds,

Softly blowing over flowers

Bending upon touches of love,

Not injecting a simple hurt.

Still there are other movers

Buses, trucks, rails are current stimulus,

Pedestrians are threatened

To obey rule of scattered law

That you start out on modern wheels,

Otherwise end up with catastrophe

Happening with every walkers

Marginalized from rest of world,

Yet mind is omnipotent for more love,

It searches with bare feet for eternity,

It avoids thunders and patchy choice

Of sycophant motives, - long silence. 

Short story slam week 48, Indians are good folks! - I AM NOT ANOTHER PERSON

A fairy lady beauty spread out a falcon in one hand and stood on the path of dreaming.

I came upon her way and she asked me, “Wait!”  It was awesome, and her eyes are marvelously fixed deep into a location imagined to be a city. Her adoring attitude and beauty supposed to touch love and beauty to steal my heart. And she said, “You all live at places those carry broken modules, blinded with overspreading loneliness. I come here to convince you, life is hopeful, Love is not bubbled out.” It seemed to me, I was just standing before the city gate. And she offered me a falcon that can rule the awkward birds those forgot to establish love in the kingdom, where mirror is money. Trees are there, but flowers are popcorn.

I looked at the bottom, dropped my views, signaled for nothingness. I am not equal to that task.

I woke up and looked for her all around, and it seemed nothing had happened. It is a dreaming balm. I am not another person.

The moon embraces

The night sky. Expectation

Does not turn eyes

Into madness as it is yours,

Not theirs. Learn gladness for all.        

TANKA

White morning mist cuffs

Hands of nature’s cycle,

Harvesting time,

Red sun peeps on paddy field,

Emptiness filled with love.  

FLOWER

See those small flowers in the garden,

Whose blooming has pride to molten

Aggrieved mind with enshrined chants

To resume work for life, tearing wrenched

Fragrance of strained mind, to see abode

Of life’s journey with love and innocence. 

LOVING PHENOMENON

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.in/2015/02/hyde-park-thursday-poets-rally-week-80.html

With the changing of season

Spring coming, tiny birds are busy

At the time of new tender leaves nearby

Reflectively making presence of group touring

In the morning soft sunlight, enthusiastically.   

Do they have to be ventured in new relationship?

So that they make presence in every twittering

Contracted in brewing of loving mood

Sooner or later everyone settles in mettle 

And expresses something in reality without paradox,

Streamlined in heart beating while sitting at higher branches

Of tree, now making new green leaves, floating

Between love and notion of rolling gentleness

Following through all seasons and dreams alongside. 

LONELY RED FLOWER

Our bus follows destination,

Speed and sound of engine

Make us awake in lonesome expense,

Among greens both sides of road.

Looking through window

I find one lonely flower

Red in color in all green bushes

Not touched with peers for love,

That we need in great happiness,

With time of loveliness, alongside,

Mind knows wishes of green and red,

Yet I cannot touch the red heart. 

THE CRESCENT MOON

At the sun-set time,

My mind imparts with woes of life,

That begins with surgery

For removing stone

From kidney of my wife,

And after one month

Another surgery to be done

For extracting stone from her gallbladder,

And she bears pain

I grieve to her suffering.

My mind changes time to time,

As if some stones are solid with sadness,

I look at the evening sky,

The crescent moon glancing at me violently,

While it is cool with its black and white smiling,

Whispers of love cannot hold humors,

And we are toys of heavenly purposes.

Many times I tried to explain the situation,

Every time I feel loneliness, with pains for her.

She sits in a chair; I am the man on the doorway,

I cannot make her life comfortable,

Others are sitting at the other side of glass,

Thirty two years of married life move to a risk,

The crescent moon is changeable to a full moon,

We are not changeable like the moon,

Colors of the twilight sky may change to crimson red,

We are not hopeful for changes, again we are hopeful. 

THE CRYING CHILD

Sound sleeping

The toddler does need it,

In early speaking ability,

He only says, “Mother! Come.”

So that in tandem the baby

Wants to sway with love

The passing of the night,

Sleeping with mother’s caring.

Lovely goes his spirit

And hunts for sleeping,

He wants to be with mother,

In the making of myth of love,

That the child does like to be with

The big organized way of mother's sincerity,

The sentiment of life, in mother’s embrace

And everything of beats of life

The speaking of the baby is heading

With joy on the way of love’s train,

Sleeping with mother.

Under the marathon of busy hours

And service work, the mother

Manages for duty and for her rest,

And brings everything in little gust

Of burning sleeve of tiredness,

Since she moves with languished feeling,

The child’s sleeping scope

Gives mother haste

To finish her workload, and

She just tries to find time,

To come with the toddler,

And in the mean time, it is amazed,

The mechanism has been changed,

And the child starts crying.

LOVE POEM

Love to me it is feeling,

It is speaking to inner heart

It is like knowing the world, all in tune

Of resonance like wave in ocean

That creates, breaks within mind

Singing with hosts of thinking, and seeing

Into mind’s eye, what we discover

Upon the earth, where we go or travel,

Love poem speaks all about them.

BABY’S EYES DELIVERING SOMETHING

Leaning on a train-window the baby looks on river flowing,

Its water is always muddy in raining tease,

 

Small waves, muddy water flowing, sunlight is not in full color,

The baby losses curiosity to see reflective derives.

 

His eyes pick curiosity, looking for sunlight,

It is baby’s bad luck not to find magic,

 

Curiosity travels into his eyes to see the New River Bridge,

Balancing is a rose test of accuracy.

 

The baby looks forward how long river’s wide stream can

Hold silence, when flood situation fills the air.

 

As the river flows with its body towards seashore to mingle with

Great course of oceanic mystery,

 

The baby does not think it, yet he looks forward for the wave

That the river does create its speed inside.

 

The baby is in balancing mood not finding the spheres of life,

Neither he examines it nor does he understand it.

 

His gesture and attitude is innocent, spiritual, cradled realm,

It is his baby insights; it is his looking for throne inside.

 

SENIOR CITIZEN 1

Like a senior citizen, I am living in true sense of the phrase,

It is just to remind me of my living world,

My stories, my pains, my inescapable inwards.

 

It must be needed to submit life certificate,

In each November, the world may know I am surviving,

Just knowing inside, I am living screaming inside.

 

I cannot live in cheers, with my wishes,

As I have to think month after month to buy a laptop,

As my old desktop computer goes out beyond repairs.

 

I have got my identity card, income-proof and some money,

I then go to a computer showroom, to buy new one, on loan,

And I stepped out blank; loan cannot be given to an old man.

 

I have a dream to give my grandson a good health and future,

And perhaps I lost the balance, as parents of the toddler say,

The kid is theirs; they know better ways to make the kid worthy

 

For living with high esteem, I cannot be an educator,

They say, I may be a mute observer, I cannot welcome new age

And the new living pattern, and for my balance, they will give me

 

One sandalwood stick for my morning walking,

My dream is my burn, I have to draw curtains upon my life,

The harder image of life pushes me beyond light.

 

 

 

LOVE AND WISDOM

Her lips are bitten,

Feeling is moving

On fingertips,

Sites are wholly gestures

Of sweet response,

Over soft skin,

Blood gets approval,

Over satisfaction,

Leaning inside tight grips,

Life is full of desires,

She stares at him,

Following what he says

Into her ears,

Whispering sounds

Of love and something

About imagining

Of the life between

Love and wisdom.