Eden’s leave

In this story I am blank to know twice the names of signs hung over the moon

It is a pale blue light over the earth’s surface as a fence called atmosphere

and to draw close to her I need to know the charm of tongue they call moon’s atmosphere

in the paradise there are only tow cups from which to drink the nectar of love

one called separation and the other called ‘Eve’

and I have drunk from both the cups and I call myself Eden’s weed

Friends one of my poems has appeared in the literary journal

You can have a peek at it at the following link.

Yura, R. “Music Set to the Beaches”. Contemporary Literary Review India, Vol. 5, no. 4, Nov. 2018, pp. 183-4, http://literaryjournal.in/index.php/clri/article/view/3.

A boy’s delight

If lantern could lit the field aglow to its seeming low light

I would be delighted with the passion for starlight in afterglow

to fall upon the field alone and make it light the starry shimmer

the boy would take to the ends of the field running in the light faint

as if lit in haste by the God to guide the boy in his destiny abound

on the planet we call the earth and the sky with awe we call the mirth

And upon the oceans the boy would nail the sail, sailing to Byzantine

The feeding sparrow

There the sparrow feeds on the grains of salt peppered by the rain

when the sun came out and it dried the grains

to peck she doesn’t even bother if anyone’s looking, all by herself

she does her work of smattering the ground with her resolve

to have a gin in place of love though she is not aware if it’s gin

or the rain water that is salty with the snow, nonetheless

she weeps her sorrows without letting anyone know

The Mind Uncaged

This is the world of ideas you form when the world itself dissolves

into nothingness and in the idea of nothing the total time elapsing

till you stop on a sunny day and watch the shadows forming on dust

of memories when thought over again and again while sipping gin

and from within the orbs the loveless fragrance enchanting the tongue

with bitter-sweet taste of the gin as many suns form around the orbs

a many-glided universes for the soul to emerge and begin to dance