रक्तिम शाम

रक्तिम  शाम  ये ऐसी  मानो…

प्रकृति  की  प्याली  में  शराब  छलकती,

रक्त  टपकता  सुर्ख  साखों  से…

जब  ढलते  सूरज  की  किरणें  आ  टकराती,

बारिश  है  बर्फ  की  तो  क्या…

खून  से  सना  है  हर दरख़्त,

लहू  लुहान  हैं  सभी…

आसमान, धरती, दिशाएं, और  वक़्त।

Raqtim Shaam.

Raqtim shaam ye aisi mano…

prakriti ki pyali me sharab chalkati

Raqt tapakta surkh saakhon se…

jab dhalte suraj kee kirne aa takrati,

baarish hai baraf ki to kya…

Khoon se sana hai har darakht,

Lahoo luhan hain sabhi…

Aasman, dharti, dishayen, aur waqt

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Not Lived If Never Lost

We have not lived if never been lost…

Wandering in whispering woods or in wondering thought,

Wrong to question, weird to believe…

Wily wilderness waits, wanton as I live.

The deeper I immerse, loftier I emerge…

Where conscious n unconscious meet n merge,

Swingers are silent and shadows sway n prance…

Living are still, dead and deadwood sing n dance.

Where when who why and what, is it worth n wise to ask…

Winter winds in the willows whistle, whether weather ever will mask,

Wistful wishes weave wonder worlds within and without…

Wait, it’s wound n waste; weary will wilts, whims whimper for a way out.

Photo: @rosenfeld.mandy

‘Modern’… Really?

Yearning for what is in, what is in vogue…

To be with it and longing to belong,

Aching to see, say & show it first…

To beat others…Oh, the insatiable thirst;

Divorced from depth n cut from contemplation…

Unfailing in following the fashionable n fashion,

Craving for admiration from known and unknown…

Living in the reflected glory and shadow of opinion;

Itching to impress with the idiotic n inane…

Caressed by the crudities and the vain,

Eager to embrace the frivolous and banal…

Pseudo is seduced by the souls shallow n small.

Russel’s wit is unsparing:

“The belief that fashion alone should dominate opinion has great advantages. It makes thought unnecessary and puts the highest intelligence within the reach of everyone”

Moving Tree… Journey Through Roots, Spirit n Time

I am rooted, I remain…but to rise roll n run /

I resist, I rest…yet restless I rustle n rush /

I am recluse, I am restricted…only to rove ride n race /

I resign, I am reigned…but I ramble reach n return /

I am restrained, I retire…yet raring roused n rampant.

I stand, I am still…but to sweep sway n swing /

I stay, I surrender…yet I speed sprint n spring /

I sit, I straddle…only to start stir n stride /

I snooze, I am static…but swift spirited n sprite /

I sleep, I settle…yet I sail slip n slide.

 I am tied, I am timed…but to tread trend n travel /

I tremble, I tumble; yet I trip twist n twirl /

I am trapped, I am trounced; only to touch tour n turn /

I am torn, I am tranquil; but I try trek n trace /

I am tired, I am troubled; yet I tour transit n traverse.

My Tree Series

Pic: Linde Lanjouw – unsplash