VIGNETTES

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Before The Last Gasp

BEFORE THE LAST GASP

It is not that the sea was calm,
It occasionally did rock my boat,
But suddenly I find myself,
On a tumultous sea, in this raging storm.
I feel like a 'cast away',
Of this maniacal world.

Man-eating hungry sharks feed
In these turbulent waters,
I can see the blood of the innocents
Dripping from their voracious jaws,
Alone, and puzzled and rudderless,
I stare blankly into the dark
And vicious waves, sreaming under
The lashes of lightnings .

For me,The land of truth,
Was supposed to lie just to the fore.
But all I dimly see there,
A rocky coast,rising defiantly,
Mocking and challenging me,
Intent on splintering
The already weakened spirit,
Of my drifting ship,
Whose sails of rosy dreams
Are now tattered,
And droop from a broken mast.

Yet, I try to raise my fist,
And shout at the threatening sky,
Although with a cracked throat,
"No! I haven't yet given up,
I refuse to go down as a wreck,
And intend to land that yonder shore,
And before the last gasp,
I will surely have a victor's laugh.
-Poet Desh

Here, In My Holy India

HERE, IN MY HOLY INDIA

I have been sent here
To enjoy unbounded beauty,
To enjoy the slow spinning
Of this globe called the Earth,
Which teases me by the charade
Of night following day,
Dawn and dusk, and then the echoes
Of midnight stars across galaxies.
Oh, the taste of the morning dew,
And the scent of swaying grass!
And also the reflections
Of blue pieces of the sky
Wading in the muddy waters.

Each day I am soaked
In the love of Creation,
When the sun and the moon
Vie with each other to caress me
With their beams,
The rain joins them sometimes,
And winter comes to tease
With its chilly pinches.

This place never ceases to amaze me!
This land of my forefathers,
The air filled with holy hymns,
Soleful music of the Sitar and flute,
Set to the solemn rhythm
Of the Tabla or Pakhavaj!

Here,
I can dream of seven white horses of the sun,
I can drink in the milky moonlight,
I can see the illumination of all things
Reflected in art And drama.

Here,On this Effervescent stage,
I am happy to play to be
Just one among the crowd,
Among the street performer
The street performer,beggar,
Or even a mean petty thief!

Yet in my heart I remain,
A lover, an artist, a curious soul
Always dreaming of unseen dreams,
Which may lead to the land of muses;
A writer of short stories, a novelist,
A poet Of unpredictable poetry,
And a keeper of the flame of creativity.

Who could ask for more?
-Poet Desh