JUI CHAWAN
Poetry
Flying away to serenity
A dove
Elegantly beautiful
Lived near a content civilisation
On a tree of Shalmali
The softness of the buds, it loved
Its favourite was to fly above the river, clear and clean
The breeze cradling it, in its arms
It flew along the flow
But times changed
The darkness spread in the hearts
Disharmony flourished
Creating a fear, a fear for one another
The dove was disheveled, aghast,
at this unknown horror
Why is it happening it wondered??
Its home was ripped apart,
the young buds lay scattered and scarred
No longer soothing but rough,
Hardened…
Stupefied, the dove went to the river
The red hue flowed into the vast expanse
slowing turning it, to the same shade
The dove flew higher than usual
As it tried to escape from the prying eyes,
The hands that tried to catch the sky,
The contentedness long disappeared…
Now only violent streaks, lethal lusts, antagonistic mind…
Shaking with shock, hurt and hate,
Doubting it’s own future,
It looked at the vast sky ahead…
Probably new horizons, new hope, new love, new home….
It didn’t look back…
It flew away…
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The wind rings, the metal clicks
The image rushes past, forfeited before capturing
It dances in the music of the wheels
A train has breezed through…
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From Monet to Picasso, At Albertina
Strokes, brushes, paints and frames.
A lot to see, than say
It stills your mind and
touches the divine, which is soaring in the infinite myriad colours.
The expression, expressed in impressions, is metamorphosed into many meanings much
Vision alluring and daring touches
Made in oblivion
It is as if, seen is not reality but is hidden beneath,
the surrealism
The geometric beings, the depth, the feel – a line not defined
Imagination defies rules,
stays underlying in the
scabbard of change…
From Picasso, Monet, Ernst…
The ideologies of cubism, impressionism, expressionism…
Surrounded with art and in a state of oblivion,
One can but just say-
“Oh Lord ! Am I worthy enough to stand and witness the alchemy of these holy beings!
I feel blessed “
Ergo, the blessing, a bestowed gift and out of the ordinary way…
So I feel blessed…
I feel blessed…
Feel blessed…
A blessing…
Blessed…
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Muriatic
She was born within the soft silt
Her radicle divulged into the land wanting to reach the depths
It was a full moon night when she was born
And she grew
Taller, stronger and deeper
The naive foliage jived with the breeze
The stem stood erect, it’s petite green frame bustling with a youthful spirit
She was beautiful
Time passed and she grew
The old leaves were shed, new grew
She was in her prime
A pregnant glow dawned her slightly brown self,
The darkish hue showed the ripening of age
The buds were born and they slowly opened their eyes
Whenever the bees visited, her face flushed due to the excitement
She still did dance with the wind
Time passed and she grew more
She was more sturdy,
The experienced glow reflected from the now brown trunk
The buds were frequent and more
The foliage thicker
The roots deeper, still going
She didn’t blush anymore
She rented her cavity to Hedwig and his wife
And one of her upper limbs were occupied by crows
She laughed when her tiny squirrel friends tickled her back
Her leaves twinkling in the twilight sun
Life was settling
Time had passed and she had grown
But one day changed the course
A transparent liquid entered the clod near her feet
Her toes, calves, and knees drowned in that pungent liquid
Initially, she didn’t understand a thing
But her ankles hurt, her toenails dried, she bled
Slowly, her dark green hair started losing its luster
Her backbone burnt making her breath laborious
That day as time moved, she stilled
And then it happened, her heart stopped
A sudden jerk in the cycle
As she fell, her bones were broken
Her bald and brackish self lay there
Isolated, violated, eyes with dried drops and dreams
A chemical miracle
The blood spilled on the dark brown silt and became invisible
Time passed and she disappeared