Light on

The sudden burst of light,
with the flowering of grain into cactus in hand,
and the showering of sunlight into bower on land,
I see thy face imprinted as mine
on the bough of tree with wind
fleetingly holding thy smile upright
like the flowers are held in variety by garden
I am a bouquet that emboldens the spring
for another yawning
I am held on to you as gravity holds the harpoon
as Eve was held on to Adam in tandem with apples laden
with the reams of knowledge,
I am pressed upon thy shadow
like the seed immersed in the earth
sprouts again to fruition
while the candle is blown in the wind of heaven
and everything is calmed down to wearing a grin
and passions light on!

The haul

Of the golden flute, I sing
I sing the song of nonchalance
noise in the making of a Satan,
then die out as the satan dies
hard out of nowhere, there is
fish and water, let's catch up
the fish and rest in silence

of the haul by the soul
the howl by the body
and hole by the mind
comes the shoal in the net of life
let's eat up what we have got out there
the fish and rest in silence

the otherworld

Does the wave return to where it began?
Does it vanish without any trace and elan?
it is the end of the ocean where waves vanish
and the journey of the man begins back to waters and famish
this is the chaplain who will carry the ship on his bent shoulders,
as if the government resides in the middle of oceans on ocean-liners,
there is the flame on the mast burning bright yielding to sunlight
it's famed tongue's flicker on the edge of the wicker light
in the end love comes to the fore and defends the seas
for the many shoals have perished underneath
into a flimsy light of luck and lustre
there's the end of the world where heavens begin
and the end of heavens where the love begins

epiphany

on the sheaves of waves, translucent in the sunlight,
reflecting the light falling from the sun into bright spots
Eddie, sitting in the largess of the company with solitude
recalls a face after face till the death seems to toil hard
to keep him guessing the names of those dead men who
succored by liquor now do epiphany in his mind, till he
cherished the white wine himself and urged to live hard
on it.

A night in the coffin

 In a coffin, wallowing for the night,
I am fully awake in the blinding dark inside,
to lie with pride and peep out of a hole.
no skies to stare at but the whole of life
Me thought you too climb in
and rest for a while,
for the coffin has enough space and time
and made of diamonds and for jack of all trades
there's nothing in the offing but our fate

whole night will elope away with the moon
and there will be nothing but daylight
when we slouch out of the coffin
and feel the day's plight
isn't it worth a while to forever
lie in the coffin and bid goodnight?

Palmist


reading a palm makes for a curious turn
to spell out what's naked in glen
what she has got in store for the swirling spring?
or has in the alleys waiting a day out in winter?
or the good barn of deciduous autumn in nature's urn?
or a summer's boat on the river for a maven to tell
which way the cold wind blows;
is the job of a Palmist