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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Water droplets slips through leaf
follows the rhythm,
of my heartbeats.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Earthworm is dying in sun.
A lone poet,
an unpoetic family.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Ephemeral concentric rings,
on drifting rain waters.
Atlast, one goes to my teacup.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
My harmony is the preserver of my banality, which, when shaken and stirred by the disturbers, pump up the mouth by Words, occasionally jargons. But having a very keen eye at my aloneness I safely prefer to pen them down.
Those Disturbers appears to be ghastly wretched as they abruptly snatch away the regularities of my Life for an ephemeral timespace. They throw me far away ahead of myself. I am jettisoned onto a far away Moral Plane with those little earthly ambitions left unconquered, sometimes unnoticed, mostly uncared for. All I am left with is an anxiety driven conscience and hands catching the beats of my Heart.
I surely know, I am assured, that these little ambitions are my ticket to an enclave brimming with conclaves devoid of any material corruption and by outward appearance, moral carcass too. They are my PSLV's and GSLV'S, hurrying me into the space of opportunism, a space where an ambitionist is given a home run, a space where your rationale and aptitude for nickle and dime confirms your prudence.
Again I surely know, I am assured, that I don't do justice to them with my ever escalating penchant for those disturbers that knock me out of my sleep every morning like a bundled Newspaper, bringing the curtains down onto my enactment of accepting the mundanity(those little ambitions) that I am expected to accept.
Is this everyday tussle adding layers of transformation or just piling up an uncalled for burden is still a conundrum. The spectrum of the disturbers is in an expansion mode with reverberating Music and eyeball grabbing picture in motion also causing the familiar effect. Moral science lessons unknowingly percolating into the entanglements of my reasons are manifestations of those disturbers. An urgency, a will to leave my footprints, a will to orchestrate my Legacy, a will to seek and imbibe from people with talismanic stature, even immitating their ideologies, is again a manifestation.
This soul stretching is exasperating and exhaustive. It's a rubik cube I have to deal with, I have to bear with. But it's a part of the parcel that I was wrapped in and sent to the grills to get grilled. I am trying to uphold the spirit of Life I believe in. We must hold and carry what we must, what we ought to. Each one of us own a rubik cube to brainstorm with. With all the innocence in my pockets, I just want to tell each one of you in a heavy baritone, that 'You are not alone'.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Fingers with green tinge,
smell of earth,
reminds of a smothered leaf.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Strokes of pungent ink,
outdoing realities,
recovering the soul.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Oh my dear friend, its time to vent it out. Forget about the control, forget about the petrol , burn yourself up in the luminosity of your novelty. Let your hands freewheel, let them dance on the tunes of your vehemence. Clear your throats and recite that unheard and unsung poem you once wrote in a closet for the artistic satisfaction.
Can’t you see the world in complete disarray, can’t you see the Beauty of Women been brutalized and vandalized. A lot of contemplation goes into penning down verses on Women’s mysticity, but those verses are like dead ducks in a plush milieu. Place them among your brothers, among the crowds, in the Flames of atrocities and believe in the substance. They have the power to rise and conquer. They have the depth of your Conviction.
Crowd is storming and buzzing but disoriented. Gather it with your fervent Voice. If you believe you are pious, share your last breath with them. If they don’t have a Face, you give them one. If they want to maul each other down, you calm their anxiety. Get over your block, come out of your closet. Leave the rodents and mice in there nutshell milieu, let them dodge ahead. You forge ahead.
If you know ‘The Vedas’, ‘The Upanishads’, ‘The Bible’, ‘The Quran’, then share them amongst the Juveniles. Embed them with ideals, enrich them with Values.That’s what Brotherhood is all about. Don’t walk gingerly no more. Don’t join that long grey line of Manhood but make your way into the Crowd.
The Stage is set. It was always there and will always be there. It was there for Mahatma Gandhi, it was there for Martin Luther King. They were the ‘Stand Up’ Guys. Forget about maneuvering your train of Thoughts. Spill out your rawest of emotions with rawest of expressions along with Tears of hope, a hope of a better future. A hope of churning out another ‘Stand Up’ Guy.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Bleeding ruptured toe
finds the soil unearthed
nothing but harmony exists.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
Doped with Wind Striking Gold
People feeling for People
An unending stream of Tears
Mysterious pain is felt through swollen Eyes
Sun's unsure, who's he lighting up
People unsure, what's dwelling up
Everyone begging for a Cure, craving for Mercy
Too much of burden for I, Me and Myself
Freedom is their Birth right, why shouldn't they have it?
They want to soar out for Money
Want to Romance their Honey.
Worried for their little Bed and Blanket
Laying with fist, grabbing the warmth beneath
Is it a Dream or desperation of mine
But what could I do
I saw a high headed drove Sedan
A naked kid hustling with a burnt tyre
Our Fathers want us to achieve riches
Make our own niche
Never whisper about gruesome World
Never scold us to discover the inequity of Life
I feel estranged with burden of kindness
I see no one on the front
It's a lush Green Mile ahead of me
That door of Sedan will never open
The naked Kid will go on with his drill
A Hand of God or an Epidemic looms in far-sight
Those closed Doors are locked Bars
The Keys are beneath their little Beds
I can watch Sun and Moon Sea-Sawing
On second thoughts can walk that Green Mile
Atleast I am out in the Open
Hoping against the hope
It's between my conscience and Science of life
I don't know, I am stuck or standing
But I have seized that Green Mile for sure.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2015
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Ashutosh Gupta Poem
I am holding a pen,
dying to caress,
my exasperation.
Copyright © Ashutosh Gupta | Year Posted 2016
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