Appetite

featured in the poetry forum April 3, 2014  :: 0 comments

Delicate hands
In which shape,
Modulate the canvas?
In what art dyed?
Colors eternal-

Every hiccup
To enlighten
Listless monastic soul
Painted walls reading-
The wheel of life
Spiritual hunger
Belch.

Smells,
From the kitchen
Teasing to the nose
Assurance of a
Strong appetite
Give.

editors note:

Appetite, yes! I’ll bet the first cave art was painted after barbecue… and a belch. – mh

Dweller of the cloud

featured in the poetry forum January 27, 2014  :: 0 comments

Pain escapes
In tears his ink
So light he treads
On air.

World he sees
Never exists, though
Same earth he lives
With celestial integrity
Light wave he travels – imagination

Abnormal he acts, wings never seen
Still so high but,
Attached to the ground:
His imbued humanity.

What enigma
You carry, Oh! Poet
Cloud is a home you live
Mysterious droplets
Of life you collect
Elixir.

editors note:

This is no 21st Century techno-medicine show snake oil, guaranteed to cure what ails you through keeping you perpetually plugged-in. This is the pure stuff; drink this and be ruined for anything else. – mh

An outlying page

featured in the poetry forum October 8, 2013  :: 0 comments

Motivated pen
By the incursion of a thought
Beleaguered page it left.
Write, re-write and cut,
Battle to win: a timeless victory
Collecting some hope.
To preserve in words: a life.

Whose momentary escape
Did nurse his feverish heart.
Observing entire Earth
When the cosmic Moon spread
Radiance of molten rays
Glittering on the earthly page
That speaks the quest
Of a wayward soul.

editors note:

Poets, ultimate outliers; struggling to wrestle odd fragments into whole expressions, equaling life. Beleaguered, indeed! – mh

Offspring

featured in the poetry forum July 29, 2013  :: 0 comments

A dead matter,
Flown out soul,
Though I intend, I indulge
Many a times I kill
Rendering to death
Offspring to shape.

Give life!
Though the ink is cold
Every sitting, a new transplant
Born in solitude,
Words are the oxygen,
I let you breathe.
Thoughts where I am grown,
Feelings, I am planted in
Before I let it run.

Quietness is all I ask
The hen is brooding
Eggs will break
Life is coming out.

editors note:

If you want to make an omelette, you gotta break some eggs. – mh

Gravity of the eyes

featured in the poetry forum June 5, 2013  :: 0 comments

To give life, an artisan
Where, vanity to disdain
In the furnace forged
From dimension to shape
Where beauty is carved
Mosaic in its ornate plate
Now on the wall it’s hung
And its magnetic silence
Pulls them to observe
Still the eyes of Buddha
Teasing from the wall
For: the eternal peace.

editors note:

In this case, the story tells the picture; a peace portrait. – mh

The light kite and his flight

featured in the poetry forum April 14, 2013  :: 0 comments

Sleepwalker, he sings,
Looking for the dream
In the sky to catch.
He lets his welkin ring
Pull gently on the rein,
A world of never land to see,
Controlling the steed.

Small bobbin he rolls,
Lurking in the void,
Throwing its shadow beneath
In the luminous doubt.
Somnolent found is the city,
Proximity of which, is very material,
Had kept less ears aesthetic, to listen to
Creative sanguine flow.

Indignant kite that,
Pushing once again, the wind,
Along with fluctuating dream,
Betokening to go ahead,
Unseen behind, to make it see
The paper, where the horizon rolls
Entangled into his finger tips.

The kite is landed
Unharness the belt.

editors note:

I’d rather pull the belt tighter and go for another flight. Nice! – mh

Her Uncomprehended Character

featured in the poetry forum August 6, 2012  :: 0 comments

Before the dusk
Dark side of the street she goes
Heading to the unknown
Whenever the halo comes
She strides so quickly
Hardly seen in the day
And returns before the dawn.

It’s arcane nobody knows
Where does she go?
Neither does she reveal her job,
Nor does she go to college
But, calls herself a student.

Applicable fashion choosing
Displayed in the market
And her recondite deeds
Questions keep reading
For her masked identity is
Demarcating herself in the society
As unidentified paramour.

editors note:

No need to let the mystery turn to fear and distrust. Maybe she’s just a midnight seamstress. Why not ask her? – mh

Evening by the lake

featured in the poetry forum April 17, 2012  :: 0 comments

Mellowed moods to summarize
My thoughts are eager to tell
My heart is not satisfied
My eyes are too keen.
Dream that I dream can not be seen
Insulated concrete by the abstract feel
To realize clouds beneath the water
Borrowed from the sky.

Creative observation smile so mad
Thinking to my wandering nomad,
I cry alone devoid of any ears,
I have forgotten the world
Looking at the ripples left by the water duck
Forgetting the insipid reality
Matrix of my aesthetic hunger
Crying in the solitude.

29 January 2012

editors note:

The distraction of ripple and cloud obscures a poet’s hunger and solitude. See them, too, and forget. – mh

Realization

featured in the poetry forum December 27, 2011  :: 0 comments

This crude life
Is asking for many things
Stretching its arms
With the manner of insatiable
Lightening weeds of summer
Where our human forgets
The dark horse we rode.

Know this lingering self
Who has to return back
Withering along the night
So to realize the position
Understand yourself
In the lightening furrow
Among the black clouds
Just to make that light
Meaningful depiction
For our momentary
Residence on earth.

editors note:

In dead of winter longest night time of year, a little light to show the way; glowing from inside out or flashing from outside in. – mh

Voice of Everest

featured in the poetry forum July 25, 2011  :: 0 comments

Sky shudders over my head
Ice forms in my skull
Stampeding over, they keep record
Either it’s a thunder near
Or it’s the lightening in front
Deaf my ears and eyes blind.

My voice is lost in search of ears
Had I the articulation loud
Deaf you may not have remained
Day by day I am going naked
My clothes are removed
For the ice is melting
Neither snow of Alaska nor the Arctic cold
Can recover my skin.

Where are the ears to the cry of sickness?
Where are the nurse and doctors?
My wounds are arctic ice
Every crack is burning with pain
Who will stitch and treat them
Am I semi conscious or lunatic half?
For I cannot feel the pain
deceiving devotion you cannot deceive the truth
I am only child curious, getting to be known
How it makes the difference
In choosing the less chosen
On which highway of the words I walk.
I am still not heard.