People of other faiths, in other nations are also dying,
but, to their plight the whole world is not crying.
5/September/2025
Within her frame, a world is formed,
A heartbeat echoes, soft and warm.
Yet hope is stitched with threads of pain,
A sacred journey, not in vain.
She walks with feet too weary, sore,
Each step a trial, yet she bears more.
Restless nights with fleeting dreams,
Her body stretched at fragile seams.
A sudden craving grips her soul,
For sour fruits, or bitter bowl.
Strange hungers rise without a call,
She longs, she yearns, she wants it all.
Her back bends low, her breath runs thin,
The tide of labor swells within.
She grips the night, she bites the day,
As life prepares to carve its way.
And when the pain breaks like the sea,
Hope crowns her womb with victory.
Her cries give birth to sweetest song,
A mother’s strength, eternal, strong.
Shadows shift in flickering flame
Vows made, now stained with your name
Our flame, once bold and bright
Now wanes upon this cold, stark night
I see the distance in your eyes
Reflecting echoes of love’s goodbye
Emptiness fills your silent stare
A longing still lingers in the air
Your heart, once gentle, has lost its grace
Betrayal bleeds—a bitter taste
Sarcasm drips from lips once sweet
A soured promise, my heart retreats
Through veins of passion, ice takes hold
Your touch, once warm, now a numbing cold
Loneliness wraps around us tight
This silent suffering, my secret plight
Our flame that waltzed is now a wisp
A puff of smoke from a burnt-out wick
Haunted by love that burned too fast
Our fading ember, reduced to ash
Never again to know fresh air,
Combing worms from my matted hair.
No one remains who’d ever care —
Tied to my grave, this lonesome baire.
I must escape the sun’s harsh glare,
Tread carefully down crumbling stair,
Descend into my crypt just there,
Where I sit alone in dark despair.
Upon my ancient worm-eaten chair,
Inside my vaulted charnel house lair,
Such a sad and accursed affair —
Never to rest, always aware.
This kind of death is so unfair:
No converse, no song, no whispered prayer.
A thousand lifetimes in disrepair,
Unattended, solus, solitaire.
Harshest sentence beyond compare,
Caught in this endless undeath snare.
Naught to do but eternity stare —
And comb the damn worms from my hair.
Eerie mystery of the night's unknown,
Now shown as strength unites,
Strived against diminished lights,
The cyhyraeth moans their plights.
Like a bolt,
a sad news arrived -
sent by her delinquent son
who had deserted home.
Her mother was concerned,
nervous and afraid;
her fear couldn't be allayed.
Reasons refused,
but she herself found a way:
remembered the soothsayer she knew,
changed her clothes,
rushed to him -
fear lingering, weak and shaky,
her sight blurred,
seeing nothing but the way.
The soothsayer performed the prayer,
invoking the deity,
told of the spirit
dwelling in her son -
but there was still a way.
He prescribed a ritual
to ward off the spirit
next day at his home
without fail.
She took a long breath,
somewhat relaxed,
paid the sooithsayer his fee.
Now better,
she resumed her household chores.
In the city's streets
Cars bought with loans-
Second-hand,third-hand models,
Number two cars
Soared in number.
Parkings sprawled into
The hearts of the roads.
E- rickshaw halt
Blocking the paths.
Women vegetable vendors
Occupy the footpaths.
Traffic police are busy
Qualling quarrels between
Auto rickshaw drivers
And woman vendors.
Police constable lurk
For bribes in the shadows.
The goverment and people
Go their ways often
Ignoring the rules.
A chaotic dance
For all to see.
This is the plight
Of my city.
(Depended on a local newspaper in writting this poem)
Oh! Behemoth tyrant set her free
From the cage of her plight she’s trapped in,
Fields of coal cannot end the hunger
And rivers of oil cannot quench the parched,
Seas full of the perished and soil lacking air
lungs smoking gun and ash from fire,
he, who must pay the price for the greed
and the crime will bring his demise,
one shall not questions its power
its force will submerge you under water
Eat everything that has the best
Vegetarian plants to yourself
Beautiful people are happy to see.
Everything is beautiful that I plant
I don't plant much, I can plant enough
To collect enough to take care of it.
Plant everything that is useful to you
Plant near to your house and backyard
Vegetables, spicy plants and herbs.
As your fruits of your labor comes yield
No need to go to the market to buy for cook
You'll have an errand plant besides your held.
Joys thrill upon suffering grief,
In dense darkness lamp’s light as if,
Good days all gone, should one get bad,
All alive, poor soul lives like dead.
________________________
Translation |31.10.2024|happiness, joy, grief, men
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. Like the light of a lamp in utter darkness, happiness that follows after a period of sorrows feels good. One that experiences poverty after a period of plentiful feels utter helplessness. He lives like a dead man though alive. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Sukham hi duhkhaani anubhooya shobhate,
ghana andhakaareshhu iva deepa-darshanam |
Sukha-anta yah yaati narah daridrataa,
dhritah shareerena mritah sah jeevati ||
Aged olive tree
Where Jesus knelt
Still alive today
A thousand years
Or more growing
Unabandoned
Exposed yet free
Open witness before
A history once more
In Gethsemane waving
It leaves to the world
Triumphant, victorious
And never commit errs
Till eternity and gospel wish
Crown the returned of the Victor.
Amidst storm
God never leave
His own people.
Bird falls into trap
Succumbed, panic for freedom
Lay tired awaits fate.
I stare into the abyss
Drenched in darkness
Such astute draconianic situation
How deep it is
For pareidolia as coping mechanism
A mirk gorge
Painfully intoxicating
I like to dern in the night
Yet I seek to be in sight
I am an aonaran
A nyctophile
The aggrieving jeopardize situation
My hands darkened with what I've done
I sit in the dark
Alone
Agitated by the plight
Of the famine hit earth,
As a sign of consolation,
Tears shed by the clouds
Come down as raindrops
From the sieve of the sky
Clattering on windows,
Thumping on roofs…
A musical concert
For the living, below!
Plopping in puddles,
Forming brooks and creeks,
Soak every land
They come across,
With love, unbiased!
Just like the separated souls
Reunite with the Supreme Soul,
Raindrops do descend to become
One with their source!
A homecoming for them!!
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