Unmoved

Sedentary sun

has made the moon

to take a round

not from his ribs or bones

flesh or blood

words insensate on the numinous pages

but from his ardor to watch

day and night

with the luminous stars

the world is in the dark

searching for light

Reflections of the world

Image credit: Google images

Curtain unwilling to fall, it drops

Time waits inside the minds

Of surprise-less spectators

What they’re going to see is seen

Thousands of times before

Curtain raises, theatre begins.

Obstinate insanity

Irritation without provocation

Pelting heart-shaped stones here and there to hurt

Incoherent cruel words pop from the brain

Masked in kindness on the dais

Notorious show of power, violence

These are reflections of the world.

It is inflicted with ulcer

Doesn’t want to visit a doctor

Recognizes the disease as remedy

Wants to keep the other wanting

For more

With names of disarmament,

Sensitizes people starving for food

On global warming

To safeguard the endangered environment

Where sentient beings are never its part

Teachers have failed in their breaths
Gallons of wealth bleeding out

To mobilise arms, weapons instead of crops.

Stop! Stop, stop... lame words beat the eardrums non-stop

But congealed organs are fixed at one point

Incapable to learn and cure

The power to live in peace freezes inside

Smiling with unease to meet death

There’s no bewilderment, no awe, no astonishment

Teachers, doctors have left the premises long ago

They lost their roles in the hands of eccentric deliberations

Living in false admiration to build and heal

They see like us, without any shout, appeal.

Mirrors have broken in the dressing room

Stage refusing to support, but willy-nilly performs its role

With popcorn words

For the spectators and the actors

Lunacy is ecstasy

Powerless performers die in the hands of audiences

They mimic our thoughts

Conflict is the reason to live

Peace the reason to die

These are the reflections of the world.

Unwilling curtain drops

Time waits in the minds of surprise-less audience

For the next episode, for the next generation

With unmistakable prediction of the same bitterness

Until the fire burns the uneasy organs

Reflects light through its own reflection

Cries, howls, destroys the thoughts dead and blind

Caressing with warmth those ignorant minds

Ignites them to life, burns those insecure weapons

Pounding heavy in the hearts

Commands the curtain to drop

The useless histrionics

To stop! Stop, stop.

Written world

Image credit: Google images

When the popper sings and begs

When the monger calls and sells

When the bombs blast to kill

When the flowers bloom to heal

When with differences countries fight

On horizon-stages that unite

In the presence or absence

Of the sun and the moon

As a curse or as a boon

With my folly and my sense

In dullness or delight

I write.

In everything I feel, see or hear

I find my poems hidden or clear

My words beyond successes failures

They come from the mind gushing through the nerves

Seldom would they be in the wrong or in the right

They’d just write.

I have volumes of leaves

In those branches of trees

They don’t have names are hanging to fall

Come back they’d again and rise without a call

Observant with acceptance, always feather light

They’d simply write.

Yet there’s one hope in the words!

That drizzles on the page!

That peace rains in my world!

Released, from the cloudy cage

Sometimes words rhyme, sometimes they don’t

At times they’re read at times left alone

Like the flower in a corner noticed or unheard

I rewrite like I breathe in my wonderful world.

For the News

Image credit: Google images

For the News, we’re all waiting

To hear instead of bad, something good

Our ears deafened with cruelty and snatching

Our eyes blinded by the rude.

Horrors of wars, divides and differences

Bleed through the channels and the holes

Our mind awaits peace and Intelligence

For the news to break and energise our souls

Terrors of all kinds are out on the street

To kill, slay, butcher and slaughter

In the flesh and blood our hearts beat

For the news of love, bliss and laughter

Every day we open those pages and boxes

They bark and bite through the space

Our organs are fatigued with the losses

For the news of truth, we all yearn to surface

In every corner of the world, from mountain tops and seas

In every work we do, for our loving families

Let’s tune in all our hearts in every song we could

For the news we’d love to get, that wars have gone for good

Someday not so far away, let us pray my friends

A distinct picture would appear through the hues

That false colour of hatred and war ends

That happiness prevails; we’d sit up and stay for the News.

Here’s to losers

Here's to losers

Everywhere we exist

Yet you’ve written nothing about us

How unfair it is, isn’t it

By now, you should have written our omnibus

Hum to losers hai bhaiya

N manzil n chandi n rupaiya

Everywhere we fail and we lose

In everything we do or we choose

Minding the Ps and Qs we could never cope

Yet we are undaunted, we never stop to hope

Hum to losers hai bhaiya

N manzil n chandi n rupaiya

Some lose out on their age yet they don’t sulk and sigh

Some lose their loves, their possession and work

Yet the spirit is always up and high

From their duties they never run and shirk

Hum to losers hai bhaiya

N manzil n chandi n rupaiya

The world writes for winning and winners

No one pens for the won

Losing in the game we are the givers

Of their wealth, worth and position

Hum to losers hai bhaiya

N manzil n chandi n rupaiya

Write about us O writer

Give us some space in your book

We are also the winners

How could you us overlook

Hum to losers hai bhaiya

N manzil n chandi n rupaiya

We lose in every moment of the day

Yet we are full of hope, with endless fun

Include us in the books if you may

We are replete with stories unsung

Hum to losers hai bhaiya
N manzil n chandi n rupaiya

Note: The refrain in the poem has a pedestrian style and is a mix of Hindi (Indian language) and English. It means we are losers o brothers, no goals, no silver/coins, no money.

The night that slept well

Image credit: Google images

Night has slept well it seems

After a series of terror, tremor
There was a hiatus
Peaceful, deep was her sleep
Now
The first streak of light

Soft world takes a shower

Colors haven’t met yet

Unabated encouragement and push

Pouring in

From the chirps, from the breeze and the brooks

From the mountains and forests

From cities with high-rises

From sound and silence

An ease that seemed so strange even a day ago
There’s plenty of life to be born today

Everywhere, within, without

There’s no death, no loss

Nothing is far, from anywhere

Close, well-knit, comfortable

Like the night that slept well yesterday

The actor

The actor

A hungry child on the street

Thinks of food

Sees a friend in the car

Going to school, crying

The tears wash the smiling urchin

Whose legs will act weak and limp

Face to be made up effortlessly with dust

He thanks his trainer

Rains of coins will shower

In his noisy tin

He’d buy something to eat

To feed the weeping stomach

He’d better start his day

Thinks and leaves for the green room

Full of flowers, birds and grasses

Takes some mud, softens it with water

Pulls some hair from his head

Gets a moustache like chaplin or hitler he doesn’t care to know

Hides for sometimes and appears on the stage

Unrecognisable!

He knows poverty doesn’t sell anymore

He knows to sing and dance

To entertain, not bore

The first coin drops

He looks up at the face

Surrounded by the blue sky

another stage, he thinks

smiles and thanks...

It's a common scene in many parts of the world

Le trajet d’un poète

Image credit: Google images

Je comprends qui suis-je

à travers les traces de ma vie, je débarque

dans le son et le silence

certains entendus, certains sentis; j’écris mes lignes

par les plaisirs et les peines,

Je regarde le monde, le mien, je surmonte l'intolérance

histoires perdues, restaurées, dans le choix des possibilités

prends-je des mots, dans le confort, l'agonie des temps à voile

Je coule l'énergie de l'intérieur; au sourire, au sarcasme, je témoigne

mon bateau se déplace, s’arrête avec les vagues doux, agités

Je me découvre aussi comme un nuage au milieu d'un voyage constant

avec la présence patientée de ciel dans mon comportement

mes pas déterminés, humbles pour m’obstiner et survivre excitent la terre

Ai-je le bonheur de procréer des vies avec l’amour en gribouillant

avec l'expérience, je me tourne chaque feuille avec soin; certains acquis, certains partis

dans tous mes moments incessants, passagères, venteux, gagnés, annulés

Je me trouve sur le rivage comme un homme ordinaire, un poète préféré

La version anglaise est disponible sous le nom Journey of a poet.  

 Ce poème peut être apprécié par la lecture de manière inverse; merci de le relire de la ligne 17  à la ligne 1.

Amusez-vous bien!

The journey of a poet

Image credit: Google images

I understand who I am

through the records of my life I land

in sound, silence

some heard, some felt I write my lines

through the pleasures and pains,

I look at the world, my world, I overcome intolerance

stories I lose, restore in the choice of possibilities

capture in words, in the comfort, agony of the sailing times

I ooze energy from within; to the smiling, smirking I witness

my boat moves, stops with the mild, wailing waves

I discover myself also as a cloud in the midst of a constant journey

with the patient presence of sky in my demeanor

my determined, humble steps to push and survive turn the earth on

I procreate lives with love as I scribble along

with experience, I turn every leaf with care; some gained, some left

in all my relentless, transient, windy, gained, annulled moments

I come ashore as a common man, a preferred poet

This poem can also be enjoyed inversely, from line 17 to line 1; it's as if you are moving upwards, taking a leap! The French version is available in the blog with the name 'Le trajet d'un poète'. Enjoy!

Clarté

Image credit: Google images

Clarté

Dans les mots, les images tenues

Dans les sens, les contenus

A quelle signifiance

Dans les chiffres, les croyances

Dans les fois, les jeux de jouissances

A quelle signifiance

La clarté en moi

Veut-elle perdre dans la nature, dans l’unité

Dans l’imprécision, le ravissement, la douleur

Se trouve créance, tous comme une partie dans l’éternité

Les yeux fatigués de différences

Les oreilles dérangées d’intolérance.

A quelle signifiance est ce masque nul

La clarté entre l’aube et le crépuscule

A quelle valeur ce gonflement de l’âme prolifique

Qui ne suit que cet art spécifique

A quelle valeur est-il cet esprit faible

Qui voudrait être aveuglé de fables favorables

Où se trouve la liberté dans la scène

La prison et la cage ne cessent d’être les mêmes   

Brun est condamné d’être différent de noir

La tête perd sa couleur sans sa couronne à voir

Un rossignol chante mais une corneille crie

La beauté ne peut jamais avec le laid sourit

Clarté fabrique des murs qui le tout divisent

C’est contre la nature qui partage et divise

Des ressources inépuisables avec récolte et vivres

Le ciel de refuge saute le mal et le bien entre autres

Clarté, erreur humaine qui empêche de nous vivre

En pleine air, mon esprit débloqué, se trouve danser et rire

Les yeux ne font plus mal, les oreilles ne scandalisent plus

Accablé que je suis, tout est clair dans le domaine de clarté absolue



Note:
La version anglaise est également disponible dans ce blog sous le nom Clarity
The English version is also available in this blog with the name Clarity

Clarity

Image credit: Google images

Clarity

In words, images

In meanings, contents

Of what relevance?

In numbers, in faiths

In beliefs, in games

Of what relevance!

The clarity in me

Wants to lose in nature, in unity

In haziness, in ecstasy, agony

In acceptance, all as part of eternity;

My eyes tired of difference,

My ears fatigued with intolerance.

Of what relevance is this mask

The clarity between a dawn and a dusk

Of what meaning is this pumping heart

Which aligns only with this specific art

Of what significance is this mind

Which chooses but to be blind?

Where’s is the liberty on the stage

When a prison has to differ from a cage,

When a black has to differ from a brown,

A head has no color without a crown,

A nightingale sings but a crow has to cry

Beauty can never with ugly fly!

Clarity creates false walls that divide

It’s against nature that shares and divides

Resources endless with crops and food

The sheltering sky skips the evil and the good.

Clarity a human error that prevents and blocks. 

Out in the air, my mind unlocks!

From the bars, my heart is free
My eyes don't hurt, my ears don't shock

Overwhelmed in the realm of charming clarity. 


Note:
La version française est également disponible dans ce blog sous le nom Clarté s'il vous plaît. 
The French version is also available in this blog with the name Clarté