1
Sometimes the mind becomes a dragonfly,
brushing against the petals of a water lily,
while a heron stands on one leg, lost in meditation.
2
Over the fence of the jasmine garden,
night-flowering jasmine falls into my courtyard,
softly, drop by drop.
3
A butterfly has slipped into the weaver's room,
and suddenly
the whole place flashes with colour.
4
A city morning. Along the asphalt road,
here and there,
water snails have crawled out of the drains.
5
Beside the cremation ground
where my father and mother were laid to rest,
a periwinkle stands laden with flowers.
6
Upon the face
of a gravestone
rests a red dragonfly.
7
On the fallen trunk
of an uprooted tree,
new leaves gather the morning sun.
8
In the middle of the fields, a shrine to Manasa;
beside the Brahmin priest,
a motorcycle.
9
A Poush night. The northerly wind cuts through.
People in distress light a fire with scraps of wood,
trying to chase away the cold.
10
In the month of Chaitra,
drumstick pods hang from the branches,
like the sticks of a dhak.
Suddenly, the crashing sounds of broken glass
as all the doors closed with nowhere to pass
Time stood still as so many innocent souls breath their last
the tragedy which happened unexpectedly so fast
with blood and fire mixing together on the ground
the city transformed into a great battleground
the hand of terror forced its way with a heavy sound
to hit a target for which it was mount to bound
So many left with unfinished dreams after the blow
to leave the world in darkness moving away the glow
no one had a clue even to use a whistle for anyone to know
that within a few seconds the towers will come below
Perhaps this would never had happened should one foresight
while everyone was so busy about their duty under the light
to commit themselves with intelligence to do everything right
unknowingly they got caught by evil in life to lose the fight
The memory of that one day no one can erase from the mind
which continue to stain the hearts of those who escape death behind
The statue of liberty will forever mourn those patriots who are gone
as well as the earth with open arms sit and wait for hose unborn
The vessel of my breath even the wind cannot shake
I carry it through the silence perfectly made without a mistake
It gives me the inspiration no one will ever understand
to fulfill every dream in my mind and to listen to my command
The mirror of the moon allows me to lift myself whenever I fall
I believe in the light of truth to always answer my call
I weep from my heart before any teardrop could touch the ground
the invisible lamp continues to search for the mystery unfound
No weapon can access what nature have placed in my hand
the seeds of thought I sow in my dream is buried into the sand
To balance the scale of time with the weight of destiny continues to flow
to keep the candle of inspiration alive for the lamp of truth to glow
The architecture of knowledge I build to shape into a frame
have made me what I am and where to imprint my name
The dark
So quiet
Its tireless
Its scary
The dark
So loud
Its so weary
Its so free
The dark
That's where it gets you
It holds you
It shows you
Your mind
So busy
So everything
Yet so nothing..
...just because it's dark...
.. it's again night.
I find myself reflecting on many things I have long forgotten,
including the invaluable wisdom imparted by my elders.
Yet the memories of the pain inflicted by others remain vivid
as I navigate the complexities of friendships and past betrayals.
I have also released numerous reassurances that were extended to me.
"You can trust me," they often proclaimed.
I try to overlook the fact that a large breadfruit serves as a meal
for my siblings and me, while our dog receives only a small portion.
My weary mind strives to preserve my memories.
the faces of familiar individuals gradually fade from my recollection.
The promises and falsehoods from our leaders linger lightly in my thoughts,
drifting like a feather in the breeze. I sneeze—particles of brain cells.
Today I chose to take it easy; I wish Metal AI could decipher this as well.
Who thought it would come to this?
I can’t live in the computer space but I know within it there’s quiet.
I almost think here.
I kind of like that it can’t really be pulled apart and seep noise if I can just keep my volume down
That is becoming more simpler as I age.
Just a place to keep my ears from being visible to my foe,
That makes them crazy
They still work as hard to be better at it
Well that thing
I don’t study computers much
They just took up space in the dark for so many years.
I have come to realize that every moment of my life
Has been solely about meeting and falling in love with you.
That has been my life’s purpose and I didn’t know it til now.
The complex secret of life
is simplicity itself:
you're born, you live and you die.
It is a well-thumbed book with
incomprehensible text
which you borrow, you read and
then pass it on to the next.
This place functions on it own
The people outside
Looks at it with different eyes
Logic happens to them
Philosophy also happens
This place is boxed up with a certain thinking
The world is not correct on how things appear before this place
History has eyes so bright for you to see
Time has evolved for so long that centuries and circles are filled with painted writings
History knows the deepness of a river and how dark ships navigated through the souls of men
History knows the beginning and the end of all the papers bound into one
This place is happily divided
And you can hear different voices
Echoing confusion into the rooms of men
There's a constant panic of a certain tradition here
And many versions are born
This place is careful about the handwriting of love
And it's timidly written on the four corners of the wall.
I think when i count the stars at night
I'm counting the numbers of luck
I want to hit my destiny
Although a pregnant cloud
Sits in the sky
And hope is held down by storm
The world is always busy at it disposal
Moving freely while cracking glasses
I think a starry night can reproduce my shine
Darkness is everywhere
Laughing at people's freedom
I see everything through the eyes of my window glass
My bard has an apple belly
And i need to bless it
Only if the stars are here to give my palms luck
I think when i count the stars at night
I'm gathering some numbers of fortune into my destiny
Everything is in the stars
And life knows how to breath there
August 28
Do you know about him
The little tall man
Living in the brown street
His lips are hard
Like where charcoal is made
He feels high more than alcohol
And always scorn his wild hair
Do you know about the natural leaf
That scorned him
For the first time
He feels his lips
With a sedative herb
And forms a circle in his skin
There are dirts
Waiting to be heaped away
He picks them up by chance
Along with a clipper
He moves with the cloud
Seeing double shadows on the way
Laughing at him
Finally at a waste bin spot
The dirts are abandoned
He picks up the clipper
This is the best place for hair cut
He sits loving the moment
While passersby share laughters
My palms has been good to you all
Since time memorial
My palms felt your weakness
Your simultaneous pain
Through the beauty of your skin
Although my palms are rough
Hardened by the toughness of the earth
Although we dreamed dreams
Under rain and sunshine
Hoping to meet peace at the mountain top
I couldn't sit on my family tree ??
Because the tide in me bore you
Looking at the cloud now
It seems beautiful over my head
I count you all among the stars in heaven
My palms will always know you
Although you have a nutritious smile
Just like my other stars
I still count compassion among you all
The experience came fast
As streams flooded my soul
I had thought of an encounter coming
But slowly slowly it walked away from my worldview
Time is such a tiny vehicle
Driving life away from plan
I least expected streams to vomit water like a sinking body
The experience came prepared
Forming river links in my soul
Even in my dream
Rivers keep running after me
I could see ornaments coming along too
I lost fishes to the running splash
Fishes i had feed with the sand of life
Life is so vegetative in the pond
And fishes are interspersed among grasses
The experience came wild
Along with rain to share a particular relationship with time
Today
A beautiful sun is set above us
Giving us a flourishing light
As cassava stems
Stand looking gracious
I believe the last face of the sky
Gives hope in abundance
Today is faithful with us
And it's close to the end of everything
I write poetry like i make love
The mood comes to swing
And my pen start digging
Emotions are purged
But first
My skin is aware of how poetry has taken a hold of me
So sometimes i think it's charm
I breath
I exhale
I feel love
And start spilling inks on dangerous papers
The mood is constant
And my pen is always ready to dig
I mean dig into thoughts
I write poetry like i make love
I swing a lot in my emotions
And scribble roughly
Sometimes it's more than that
I wrote your hair into a poem
And it looks like allium
I weaved my words into a tiny strand of hair just to get your beautiful design done
You made me write your name on sunflower ???? when i touched it
Yesterday was a better half of you
Today is a name that stands with you
Every line of your hair
Represent each stanza of my words
Every color you find admiring
Represent the smile that comes to me when i see you
I wrote your hair into a poem
And it looks like allium
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