Durga

Resplendent pleasure and pain
Festivities in religious ardour
Amulets of Love
Riddled righteous passion
Fragrance of Alistonia
Crazing the lazy daybreak hour
De-greased‎ hides, suedes and Feather
Dhaki rolls the Kathi fervour
Reds smudge hems of feet
Cinnabar brow-smears

Lal-paar tasseled anchals
Durga in her valour
Chakra, club, conch, lotus, arrows, spears,
thunderbolt, trident
SHE is
Still in an eighteen-armed blow
To the two armed Mahishasur..
piercing his heart
Trinkets of blood in the falling
Tiger clawing the wounded-asur
Is breached by the stillness of festivity
Mahishasur Mardini exudes
Shrieks of joy, Sounds of clanking
Conch-Naad, Bells and Verses
Sorrows and Joys are blessings
Crimes of Love bestowing
STILLNESS in a victory hour.....
~ A

Kinetics

The kinetics of Clockwork
A pendulum in full motion
Swinging
Gaze fixed to oscillation
Hypnotic fruitification
Stimulus to its countlessness
Haste............. I find it.
It spins a web
Bringing many collisions to action
I flow in its fulfillment
Smuffed in its admiration
Smothered by its potency
I submit....
It was
Just a wandering thought
Steeped in Love
For your adoration..

~ A

Its an age gone by

It does not touch me now
nor does it probe into
my sense of being.
It does not declare me alive
nor excavate a sensory fossil
from the crevices of day dreams.
It does not lava
the heat from the core
nor does it benumb me
into the hollowness inside.
Its no more a cause of habit
nor does it ask me to asunder
purpose-truths of this shallow life.
It does not call for pardon
nor makes me guilty of my days.
Its not in the passing
nor in the waiting is it
Its an age gone by
and I do not care..


~ A

An hour on "Robert Frost Trail".

Tepid madness of life expressed

Squalls for me and thing suppressed

I trembled on each step I took

To stand where the poet stood.

On untouched turf he oft rode

For rhymes in spoors and every nest

Many with endearing hearts appear

As flames within the breadloaf disappear.

Wayside along the winding roads

A thread of Frost, a scribbled trail

Which rode amid the hearts and words

As spirited horses in autumn woods.

Through rusting leaves an hour spent

Chuckles of gnomes hushed in breeze

While riotous cicadas on crickets rode

The spell of this wayside shrine.  

Winged dreams from a poetic crest

Will always find a branch to rest

The Road not taken poignant though

Stood speechless on a paths so known.

Only an untouched forest does know

Its way to shine in limericks though

New born leaves with a dream so new

Was caught in age old poesy though.

What if I walked the forest breeze

Into the woods with broken trees

Will rhymes of breaths weave a trail

Though winters cover it with snow.

~ A

be a companion in my mind...

Come
And be a companion
In my mind
For the nights are listless
And the days do not leave
Memories in a name
To which I belong.

Come
And be a companion
In my mind
For my body only obeys
Nature's instinct imbued
In the trenches o' my heart
For me to war or follow.

Come
And be in unity
In my anonymity
For names stir expectation
And the cycle of Love is drawn
To destinations all known
Pain peace and solitude.

Come
And let your youth ascertain
The demeanor of my age
My path into silent times
And a caducity where
Passions free forever flee
To many breaths.

Come
And let's shine for no reason
for stars cover the helpless night
Beyond the beings forever.
~ A.

The REAL me....

The Real ME...

I am not, the Complete me,

The Truth of me is past,

Firmed in the Breeze,

Chiding clock's stutter, 

And the Real is yet to be.

But am told the Real you,

Is drifting in the passing too.

Layers of  time, 

In chambers of certitude contain

An incognito in the present

Decoy of past and Yet to be.

~ A

Bench Press

Brash gust of music
on languid mornings pour
chiseling somnolent breaths to a sigh.

Eyes closed
grips awake to your touch.
Hoary memories
in tense calculated controlled
pectoralis excitement reside.

I feel you through your cold seams
your sheen
fine crafted metallic sleepy cold.

Clasps firm on the holds
the carnal within
awakens to a hold- a press and a lift.

You are racked again
probably ready for another try.

But I am done
glistening in sweat
I heave a sight.

~ A