|
|
Posted by Durlabh Singh on May 22, 19102 at 06:32:33:
On the seashore where the pebbles toss
The waves encrusted in their noonday vaults
The ripples answer forth
Over the sand dunes of crescent hills
To recover by pushing around
The shingles on the silvery sand
The annals of the irrecoverable past
Amidst pebbled hands of the time past.
Shadows across the ship’s mast
Shadows under the mermaid’s wings
Shadows over the seaweed’s bark
Shadows entangled with crystalline dreams.
All day along the wind
The wind has been whispering
To explore
The leaning buds
On the stony shores.
The question whether one
Should exit or not
Or to find a way or not
Out of the emotional contest
Of wavery wandering thoughts.
At the death’s gate
Time stand still
The laurels of significance
The points of departures
Of the perpetual vigils
The glory of animals
Lost somewhere
In the sultry afternoons
In alcoves of seedy conscience
Entombed in twilight bowers.
All day along
The wind has been
Instructing me
To burst forth
Like the nascent songs
Beyond things explained
Insubordination to gravity
Or to other surmised tones.
The show of despair
In the face of stranded thoughts
An emblage of mobile fantasies
In waxworks of delineated dross
The curvatures of obscure thoughts.
Do I swallow the shiny presence
Or perpetuate the sublime sores
Pour water to subterranean streams
To the termites or their cones.
Over the hills life flows constantly
Pulverizing tenements of hidden mediations
And time stand still
On the scared face of liberty
Bisecting the eternity
With feverish pugnacious pulsations
The mind piles up
Annals of anomalous contumacies.
Plunge through the shadows of despair
On to some distant shores
Cut through the stillness of oleander
To certain harbinger hope
On Asia’s dusty face
Time stands still bisecting eternity.
The gentle wind ing over the sea
Disarraying the hair of the twilight bride
Rolling waves wearily and wandering
Weaving patterns in the sky
Through the shingles and sand
Ebb and flow of churning foam
Under the rocks groaning of sea
On the dry rods rattle of leaves
Cold water touching edge of scar
Piece by piece wreckage of heart
Ebb and flow ebb and flow of churning foam
Under the bridges over the loam.
Try not to think
But only to endure
The hawk coming out to meet the birds
Where sin is a luxury
And comfort a pain
Amid harder labors of life
On the law of hope and demand
The page of time flowing dwindling
Dwelling among nameless serfs
Embedded with the dice of chance
Contradictions between spent and force
Between the spirit and the flesh
Between the ego and the self
In the shadows of pomegranate trees
Growing seeds of scorpion and dust
Recklessly alike within and without
Outvying each other in preserving glance
Existence’s kinship with non-existence’s sap
Death was not hear to intervene
Blackish egos on night’s restless face
Extending traversing the serried space
The touch of fever in the mind’s crawl
The power of the warmth on falcon’s face.
Mind having abode neither in things created
Nor in things uncreated
But somewhere beyond the limits of self
To some other nectar system of the universe
Unconceived by lurid sense
Uncircled untraced by firmament of hand.
I arise from the sleep of myself
To proclaim my beingness.
The mind conceives falsely and having built
Its mirages of the crescent crests
The words and the meanings
And the meanings underlying the words
Particularization of fancies and images bereft
Pushed by the exigencies of material existence
The words the opposites and the contraries
With all their resulting consequence
Embodied in the heart of poppy field
Entombed in the path of t flesh.
Failing of language and intellect
Failing of the thoughts and of self
Where images cannot enter
Because they dissect the very end
The meaning of existence indecipherable
The essence transcending the essence
The truth lies beyond domain of words
Beyond body of language ysis and thoughts.
Mind to be grasped by some purer will
Here and there on some summer’s day
Intoxicated with the fever of mental pitch
Plucked with strings of the hallowed spirit.
The guardian spirit
Of magical commodity
Penetrating the realm of supernatural
Taming the irrational instructing the novice
Going into partnership with power
To gain esteem or to demonstrate
Existence of relationship
Of precarious deeds
For private ends or public needs
Curing the sick or growing the seeds
Winning the battles or unwitting
The victims of some malevolent sorcery
Influencing the natural world or a cause
For some impressive theatrical gesture
The professional noise maker
With its magical apparatus
Sits on high magical ornamental pole
Striking the destinations disturbing the trance
For ostentatious display of the power
Wealth and fortune and good advice
Correct handling of social gesture
The boldness of the scales
Or an excess of feelings
An absolute essential
An inappropriate act or gesture
Requires the death of the culprit.
With all the visions hidden behind the space
With all the forms hidden behind the face
The drooping birds falling
Falling on the midden road
With all their spectral power
They will sing no more.
Bones sullied with blood
The end of of self by self
The offerings of murmured spring
Torrents of desires under the elf
Darkening wind and the rain
Lady with dark tresses
Sits in the window sill
Sing the doomladen cloud
Sing the patter of scandalous rain
Slip away the loosened scarf
Drown away the patter of falling rhymes
Into a sprawl and hopeless chime
The gloom laden soul in the court yard
The quack of peas in branches of trees
She sits on the windowsill
To watch rain falling across watery fields.
Subject to various modes
Of liaison soul’s cache
The charioteer to his wheel
And to the nest the birds afar
Cleft away the channels
Of the mountain torrents
With death decay and deluge
To parrots and starlings
Give away the yellowness
Sheaves of the dry wheat
Drying scattered windwards
Sweet odors forged with deeds
Germinating the hungers of the pleat.
Some chilly roots and frozen spaces
Twilight fingers with incised faces
Which we were afraid to traverse
For fear of unpleasantness or doom
Hovering behind hunger and thrust
Out of the reach of the heaven world
Of immortality and the time past
Hidden in darkness of the fresh start.
The five whirlpools the five winds
The five fountains the five breaths
Seized in the body of five senses
Like sparks hidden in sandalwood
Invoking five mounds of transitional dust
All graced behind a pionless dearth
The futile events of birth and death.
Sickening of diseased matter on the orb
The skull the skin the blood and the sod
Loosened on plains of mirth
The sinewy flesh parched on dough
In this order of life
Having ped other orders of life
The rags nailed to the mast
The wind nailed to the sea.
In the hushed hour between dawn and night
When glacial storms go out of sight
The song of bird on lonely beach
Melodies with breaking ringlets of marigold
The night carries away her mantled cloak
Hoodwinked behind an undine shoal
The hunger of desire now a daydream
The rose is open and the nightingale drunk
The moth has gone to renew its zest.
Tight lopped leaves in hazy silhouette.
Journey to the end of night
In search of some darkness
Journey to the end of night
To move away from oneself
People and planets
All in whirlwind
The high summer leaves
Screechous and wasteful
No one could share
A single syntax of your heart
Journey to the end of night
In search of some darkness
The music of spheres in wizened space
The patter of rain on rusty gates
Linking of jades and nubian dance
Pointing to an escapadeand trance.
The professional head hunters
Having done their deeds
The survivors gather to commemorate
The victims of malevolent sorcery
Red ochre on white lime
Emboldened shapes and strict design
Depicting executions in far off land.
And what does it matter now growing old
On stumps of trees of autumnal strains
Of belonging to sinewy silences
Or to the cultivated streets
Or to dark waters of inner hansard
If the radiant eastern stars
Shine not on oceanic winds
The vultures soar not in hounded heights
And eagles disturb not the howling nights
The bejeweled mockings for struggles of life
The rebellious spirit ceases to care
Scratches of scorpions and reptiles
And what does it matter now
Of not following this footstep or that face.
The magical project exhausting
The expanse of the visible world
The portals of mind
The laceration of flesh
The worlds were shallower
Than your thoughts
Purfled tellurian of distant past.