When my brain tires out of melancholy and my eyes Yearn for an unsung symphony, When my heart turns into a thirsty man in a dreary desert, And my pensivity erects ramparts around me, It is then that My soul seeks refuge in Poetry.
A spark illuminates deep inside me, a series of thoughts, doodle a joyous world. A world, far away from reach, Whose key is possessed only by the poet inside me.
I tried to take a peek of hers. So beautiful is she, so beautiful is her universe! How she shakes hand with the wind, Sleeps under a blanket of stars, Plays hide n seek with moon.
Look, Envious I become, for she carves her own story- Where she is the protagonist, Where she tastes life in its true vibrance.
I sit pondering in nostalgia, about those lost days. But Alas! My poet's smile just ends as a sigh. This sigh breathes in an emotion, a desire, Which I stifled inside me. Oh! it overpowers me.
A narrow brooke of ink from my self-sketched meanders its way into reality and meets the ocean of expression here at Mirakee.
Thank you very much Mirakee, for helping me understand myself better. With each passing day, I encounter a new facet of myself.
As he steps down the twenty-two steps of moksha, Taking his heart-warming form, The soul of the cosmos Bows down to pay homage to The Lord of the Universe.
Indra, the Lightning God, drizzles down with humility The Sun God satiates his blazing Varuna, reigning the ocean, washes his feet, As the Grand Sire steps down onto his Grand street.
When the world becomes unconsciousness, Drowns in the eternal consciousness And Time slows down To witness the union of the Soul and the Supreme, Life lives her long-yearned vibrant dullness.
The three chariots roll out, Every grain of sand dances in joy, Every spirit reminisces the tales of past glory, Every heart fills with love.
Oh look at the beautiful face, How He smiles, Enjoys the company of His dear devotees, How He drenches Himself with the songs, dances, arts of devotion, How He becomes the Krishna of Gopi, How He bathes in the chants of 'Jai Jagannath'.
Here I stand, Feeling the aura, Waiting for the bewitching large eyes to beguile me. ~ Pratiksha Saikrishna
Flying in the gusts of soft wind, I will adorn myself with the richness of the seashells And calmness of the sky, Making a wish To the shooting star.
Flowing along the wild brooke, I'll meander through mountains, grasslands Forests and distant lands, Appreciating the Dullness of fallen leaves And vibrance of dew, Darkness of the new moon And brilliance of the fireflies, Melody of the Mynah And monotony of the crickets.
Being a tiny grain, before the vastitude of cosmos, I'll try to add a subtle stroke - A pinch of madness, a spice of laughter.
A bird locked deep in Tasted a renewed flavour As she went back...
Back to the days when the grass was greener And the smell of soil was in the air, When the maidens with pots laughed their way, And with the symphony of wind, the banyan swayed, When the gold in the fields smiled with the pearls at dawn, The mynah sang a different melody to celebrate the poet's pun, Where the sunshine was filled with raw gaiety And the moonlit night narrated tales of eternity.
The wrinkled eyes glistened at the memory of those lost days, While the little brain was thinking whether this was a mythical place, Which like in the stories was abounding with Happiness.
"Grandma, It's a land so lovely!" "Yes, A land where lived no neighbours, but one family."
Time was running out And the stillness of night Was diluted by the tick of clock That showed half past eleven; Adamant slumber hesitated to lull me; The perplexing thoughts stranded In my agitated mind Bounced out and roamed restlessly; Aloof in that gloomy chamber My valour was threatened By the incessantly howling dogs beyond And deafening buzz of Cicades; My drooped eyelids kept vigilant Like the hooting owl at night; Rustling leaves swelled my trepidation As it reminded of ill omens That heralded the arrival of ghosts. A radiant glow at a corner Pulled my whole attention to it; Like a lass carrying lamp It hovered around in my chamber Arousing my panic Moved mildly to me And rested on my trembling fingers Scintillating as bees rest on flowers; After identifying the glowing angel As 'firefly' I leaped to ecstasy; The gleaming Angel told, " I have travelled a long way Crossing bridges and mountains to meet thee And I have brought light of gay And everlasting hope to thee". Without leaving a word the Angel departed.
Laying on the blanched coverings Of a mattress supported faltingly On a wrecked bedstead of existence, I stare in vain at the once virescent Floral patterns imprinted on the fabric, Now all faded, resembling well-nigh The old letters stored in the cabinet. Blue ink smudged on the white, Creating a paradigm of turquoise rillets Cascading through the paper. I turn to the old photograph, A souvenir caged within A wooden frame sculpted by The hands of some unnamed carver. Portraying the volatility Of all mortal entities at large.
// My mind leafs through the pages Of my unscripted memoir, Each chapter smells of burnt roses, Ignited as a ritual on my demise. I dust off the ashes And watch them flutter away, In the puffs of my moribund breath. //
I wish the world to remember me even then, Not as the last word of their favourite tales, But as the library that preserves all the volumes They couldn't keep for themselves. I wish to be the melody still chiming at your ears After you disengage a phone call with your lover, For your mind may someday abandon The lyrics of your favourite song But never the melody that made your heart flutter The very first time you ever fell in love. I wish the world to remember me still, As a sapphire ring they come across at some store, That reminds them of the azure sky That adorned the happiest day of their life. If not any one thing, I'd still wish to be an artefact you safeguard Within the delicate glass cabinet in your room, That you procured on the pilgrimage you made, With the purpose to mirror the sanctity You would rever for all eternity.