SHANGRI-LA

Before I intuitive and after I pass on

Where would be I, but at the moment

After a lone prayer from the empty abode

Walks across the human and inhuman noises

Just eying and searching for the boon

Why fire burns beneath the blood cells

Immortal soul cannot die against the life

There are evergreen hills and flowers

Silver lining clouds above the zenith

Bluest lake spreading at the bottom 

Where the greenly grasses carpet land

Dances and singing by thee

For my ugliest footprints

Do I worth to die?

Did I create a flowery story?

No, hopes sail away still in thine boat

Breathe tasteful air from thy sky,

Swallow pious water from thou well.

Don’t whisper me call me thrice

So I could run and play on this vale,

I could converse without uttering,

And can heed thee song of revolution.

Thy gifted me:

Milky Way like long stories

Bridge amid life and soul

A ladder to mount up the age tree

Filter mask and helmet

Moisture in dried life

Cloudy dawn and snow falls

During ever hot summer days

Thy would be my flower girl

As I accompany to flower power

Shangri-La for astonishing days

I with a gusto fresh face:

Walk all along with lambs,

Wear dappled cloths,

Can talk by way of the dears,

Can fly among the parrots,

Can swim like the fishes.

Woodland is not so untamed like before

Trees and creeps telling thy stories

Nightingales would fly to me in eve

Morning sparrows too, as herald

They are hymning for me

There is no death body

And no ill man

I don’t have an ailment too.

My non-human friends:

Width Lake and small pond of lotus

Coconut trees and mango trees

Harmonious birds and cute lambs

Flowery stones and big rivers

Day, night and rain

Thine garden and soft wind-

These days they’re keen to discern thou

Still passing through thy realm

Among the flora and fauna of Shangri-La

Deity passes through the terrain

With the drop of boons to enlighten the roads

Stare towards the east

Lost city and village would be found

From the vista and grin of thee

Pebbles develop into flowers

Flames grow to be rain

I replace by a name of sacrifice

It’s not a paradise

I had rooted on Shangri-La.

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ARCHETYPAL POEM

 

Manuscript of an archetypal poem

Muddle words and panic meanings

Those are there in the museum.

Half unclothed body of the women,

Stripped body of the men with long hair,

Snakes and ladies were playing,

Unknown eggs and mermaids;

Made mystify till the quarter-

Even a nuptials story of goddess

With an epic brave man of ancient-

Among reckonable fairy tales

A village girl ran after a seraph

She found flying chariot and a prince of god

Followed by a heaven garden’s stories-

No one discovers that poem except mother.

A dog was a husband of a beautiful lady

Child: half dog and half man played at lawn.

Each stanza goes on with enigma of saga

That is an archetypal poem, a nudity poem

Man dinned human flesh and rotten worms.

Made distance without the slit in between

Dead and alive slept jointly on a divan

They imbibed buffaloes and cows excreta

When this archetypal poem gets over?

Enjoyed the deities on man’s berth

Sometimes and usually damsel sacrificed

As fruit and flower of the puja-

Living days filled up by offspring of them

Delusion and illusion into an indubitable-

Portraits and lexis are no more over there

They walk as animal walks

And ever sleeping archetypal poems awoke

Begins to fly like vulture and phoenix

Sometimes breeze like hot wind

Across the diverse soils of land-

When the night falls

Bits and pieces and stones sing collectively

Walking trees catch up the birds

The ocean drinks all the salty waters

And the king put together all the heavenly bodies

Within the black and dark boulevard

Inside a gigantic vessel of sugarcane

Look at out to the fireflies

They shine like stars and moon

Still the mother enchant the archetypal poem

While breeders stand still.

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ON THE DAY OF HARVEST

An earsplitting crowd

Or a pin dropped silent

A harvest field

Don’t anticipate for a heavy rain

Don’t fright for a blazing sunbeams

Meadow is waiting

Crops are awaiting

Rest between the shade and sun

Sweating day is a smiley day

Play with the kites

Do not weary as a memorized day

These grains are not deadly

Like the exotic grains of far

Collect the times for given times

The day is unblemished

There’s no grime on the field

Before reach at the field

For the first day of the harvest

Folks would see on eyes

A sharp ray of bravery

And images of grains and crops

An affluent owner!

Can you snoop to the sky?

There are no rain clouds

On this first day of harvest-

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