Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The want for an obsequy

Of mickle depth and surrogate associations
There is some thought that I inherit or so
It seems to me. My lapel ends turn out to
Be more grey than I had thought they would.
A little shaded touches would do. What say?
A tinge of cashmere whites or some red?
Like Macbeth I often want to wash it clean...
I would have delegate it to Raphael if only
I was in a different century And my soft
Hand perfection seems to fall short again.
I look around, weary and concerned,
At my reportoire of lofty magic shades -
And in my paraphernalia I find a void.
Just that, and nothing more to count up on.
A blatant song would do for me, for now
Or just a noisy stream of serrated reality.
I would give or take none and all this once,
So take a song and give me my obsequy.

-Anubhav

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Blueberry gifts

Revised

A ride across the forest and the bridges...
The hand that held me is long gone now,
Silent roadside pebbles, roll on to Beckley -
Virginia will be no more the home that I had.
I ask for my debts to be cleared for once,
Before I can ask for more or try to do so.
To retribute me to my soul, to let go of hope,
To requite another day of mine, return me home....
So many summers passed by for but a winter.
Now the snow lined roads make way for me.
Rush me to my death bed, angels carry me on,
Make haste before the last breath gives away.
Call on the mother - for she would now cry...
Its such a time, such a day, we can't say more...
Hold on to my feet, if I tremble beyond my mind...
Put a little sand on my right hand with no tears.
For gifts let blueberry be my good-bye holdings.
No flowers for me tonight, just let me go light...
At heart and in my mind, I have nothing to hold
A story has been told, and its concluded now

-Anubhav

------------

Original

A ride across the forest and the bridges...
The hand that held me is long gone now,
Silent roadside pebbles, roll on to Beckley -
Virginia would be no more the home I had.
Retribute me to my soul, regard it a blunder...
Summer often passes by in the hope for winter
Requite another day of mine, return me home....
A burnt wooden stick ain't same as a splinter...
Rush me to my death bed, angels carry me on,
Make haste before the last breath gives away.
Call on the mother - for she would now cry...
Its such a time, such a day, we can't say more...
Hold on to my feet, if I tremble beyond my mind...
Put a little sand on my right hand with no tears.
For gifts let blueberry be my good-bye holdings.
No flowers for me tonight, just let me go light...
At heart and in my mind, I have nothing to hold
A story has been told, and its concluded now

-Anubhav

The tomato

A stale tomato, near the water sink,
An unwashed knife, a broken glass,
A slow moving fan near the window,
And an infinite silence in my house.
It sure was a home once, long ago,
When the knife had a scary shine,
And well washed cutlery was lined
Along the kitchen shelves everyday.
People to rede you on many things -
Paper sachets and steel matchets,
To life, agonies and smiles et al.
Fervid tones and incessant notes,
Some from a guitar; Some yelled!
Frantic feuds over a paper boat -
They happened too around here,
When the tomato was still ripe red.

-Anubhav

My illusions

Midnight is a solemn vow
That you take to step
Into my dreams.
And the morning is my
Disillusionment.
For you are far away.
Out of the reach of my hands,
Every time I stretch out
To hold you.
A coffee cup or just air
Is what I grasp on to.
My midsummer night's dream
Bursts once more
In a soap-water bubble.
With a faint sound
That only fairies can hear.
And they cry.
I find their tears as dew drops
On the roses that I draw.
With water streaked on paper,
Glowing with the lights
From coloured candles.
Burning on like desires,
And melting like me.

-Anubhav

Saturday, August 12, 2006

The only momemt

With half open eyes, she looked at me,
Just like it was the only moment that
We had. Just one moment in thousands....
Her hair on my fingers, beckoning me...
To reach out to her dusky skin... Like night
I stood before her. Like dawn she shined...
Her eyes flowing over my inches of reality.
My thoughts ravaging the pleasures...
Anticipation often gets the better share
Of reality. Many moments do pass by...
Eyes locked.... lips touched... untouched
And the calm end with us perspiring...
Told the story of a lifetime... of how we
were one... for just a moment...
The only moment that I had in a lifetime.

-Anubhav

To die

Who does not die? Who does?
At the hands of time's immunity.
I stand a witness to the sands,
Till when the black turns grey...
I walk on when asked to stay
Aloft, afloat the mirror of silence,
Reflecting the sins of the poet.
To say that which is true,
Is but a gloomy curse to some.
A chord dischordant in my ears
Echoes on, resonating with you,
And your pain. Silent as ever
The poet passes over again.
No marks left by his feet,
Just some marks of ink and blood.

-Anubhav

Thursday, August 3, 2006

Reprehensible truths

Regardless though, I find myself reflecting,
Silent sometimes, conjunctively deflecting.
What my contemplations refer to as my self...
Is often just a thought delving into illusions.
Another pointless whisper that I remember,
From the cold icy month of last December.
When your icy cold fingers touched my face...
Not with love or care but just with semblance...
Another furtive message on its slow way.
Mauled imaginations and clenched fists
Make for a beautifully repulsive couple....
Another day and one more hatred spawns,
Blind steps fondling their way to dawns...
What reality can I portray to myself tonight?
Another false dream or reprehensible truths.

-Anubhav

Wednesday, August 2, 2006

Smile

Twisted lips can make a day so different,
They can make me leap ahead in time,
Make me speak from inside a photo frame,
My smiles often transcend my name, and -
Me. A flick of the eye across the vision
Charting a course through the day. I, you
Or we can often step a mile by a smile.
To stop or to move is often not a decree,
It is just a choice. Just like it is to cry.
To hold on to the glimpse of sad times,
Is no more a component of my fancy.
I choose to upturn the corners of my lips,
To let the twinkle transcend into my eyes,
I choose to sweep you off your feet,
Every time you look at me, amazed,
Its not the turquoise on my left hand...
Its just the smile that makes you blush.

-Anubhav