Duality Poems

I am waiting for a miracle. A miracle of meteorological proportions. A miracle whose atmospheric propositions would be large enough to render it, and anything appertaining to it, be it high up in the sky that ends it, or down

Have you tasted the silk in the pit of snakes? Exit was not in my fate. Winter was kissing my toes and spring was blooming down in my estranged poems. You don’t feel like to wake up for ingrained disbelief.

Rain, wet and unrelenting Sun, so hot and dazzling Dreams of misty, cool rain And rides in an air-conditioned train Skylines of harsh, cold concrete Valleys of lush, green meadows Thunderstorms over a thrashing sea Beaches of soft, golden sand

If I If I ventured in the slipstream Between the viaducts of your dream. I’m sorry. It was the only place I ever wanted to be. From the fresh breeze of a first love to a sonic jolt of oneness.

It is so cloudy, blue and black. If we could only see the end of the track. Heaven knows what we are likely to see. For what we really are is all we can be. It’s so sad that we

Stranger, why should I not smile at you? Why should we be entrapped under false separations of race, color, caste, creed or any duality? Are not we beings cast in the image of God? Is not all – one! We

Often kith and kin friends and relatives kids and aged would meet either in functions or in funerals of the dead The smiles, the laughs the Ecstasy the warmth, the affection are all there to be seen when participating in

As I look around me, The world becomes so different, So full of love, So full of hate Hate is hard to keep away, But sometimes it’s the only way The person who you hate, May have a perfect fate,

In emptiness staying aloof to set the wings free, a shadow self without flesh and bones to rip out the enormity of silence of words, cold in the face of duality metaphysical but of somber echo of tension between reconciliation

Hoisting the bisexuality on a figurine, I crawl back to anxiety. The primitive instinct was taking over the stitches on a snake. What do you want from a moon for the drooling mouth of a seashell? Braiding the breasts against

This was my book of pain with no ending. Life had two meanings- Anticipation of today, and fear of tomorrow. Time was running out like sand from fists, mists were rising, commentaries on setting sun had begun. Mind was calculating,

Meditating quietly, On the self within, In the serene calm of mind Devoid of motion or sound Every day, Like a vibration, With a speed of thought, I travel manifold universes & Beyond, Amusing my-self In various lokas¹, Ever shining,

The human? That is not a question mark, but purely a contemplative issue. Dilemma, bridge connecting light from dark. And timelessness, cocooned in timely tissue. Recumbent on duality of mind, pulled multiple directions by his cares, the human, guilty, slumbers

Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security

We, You and I, Are individuals. As individuals, Regardless of how steadfastly We assert individuality, We’ll either blend in Or be drowned in a sea of Excessively passionate individuals; Each uniquely manufactured to personify Their respective soul. We, You and

When I converse with him, He is high, up in the night sky.. It’s all about you and me, And about the silence that expresses the loudest thought that dwells in our mind. While shinning bright it does flicker at

Let your wings flutter for a while, you may walk,run or crawl but not to give a cry Shimmering stars will flirt with the young night but you may resist to hide in plain sight. The constant clutter of your

They say that when you fall in love, your world turns brighter. I never thought it would be true… At least, not until I met you. From the crest of the hill, I could see you looking off in the

She was the blessing, She was the smile. She was the much awaited, From my womb into my hands. She was so tiny, Yet so appealing. One said–so red, fresh & blooming, Yeah, she was my little rose! For the

Whole world hides in your liquid eyes, I need to return to my consciousness, to change my verse. The dry air has wiped out the beautiful words sitting on the edge, of a meaning I write a new song. Discovering

Beset current despondency goads me again to express Reason for disenchantment and issues crucial address It’s not just plain strangers but ones considered as own Despite all indulged civility apathy in return got shown Kept seeking sane rationale searched the

Why is it so difficult to convince The Heart, That feelings nowadays are sold at The Mart. Ventured into The Mart, in hand The Heart, And In tow, a shopping cart. Trust was on sale in a neat pack, Came

Hey you, I just wanted to write, I really hope you don’t mind, You’re not out of mind, just out of sight, I think about you all of the time. I often wonder how things are, Since the last time

Coming face to face with hemlock you are not able to rain in the animal and start climbing the temperamental tree. Fathered by innocence of violence on the name of war, when were you going to kill? Your own progency?

Yet another threshold to archives consigned Not greatly different & equitably assigned Peaks yet to be scaled troughs I still contend Old resolve as essence logic even now defend A blend nearly flawless but for the final whisk That tells

Stop! — don’t! — I need not your help. Don’t look down I do care for myself. Just go! — Left me alone If you will have no care Just let myself be prone. I will have no wonder If

When insects were crawling dreams had contradictions, a sudden drop in temperature brought the quantum touch. Ending of the grief or grief of ending rejected every intact truth and death was trailing behind the candle. Fear and agony were following

Do words inspire When spoken in the soft shadows, Of the veiled darkness? Are the lips that utter, The Holy Grail to wholesomeness. When shredded or shrouded In somnolence, Are words, then, A solace? Does silence amplify thoughts? And words,

I find my evenings on the sombre side , I don’t know how to put them right , It’s just like the flying time comes to a stand still , which I cannot fight !! I find my evenings on

Simple light I assume, I needed nothing more, nothing less: as I felt tired under the battered shade of a tamarind tree. Sour sweet pulp, sticky and acidic life had held me by throat; and I sang like a blue

There’s a solemn ” Castle in the air” sometime.. Yes, sometime there is…. Phantasms of that vignette takes me to a chronicle of memories….. & it’s twinkling there like a shooting star.. Let me hallucinate with that dream again… Let

Heaven in a Wildflower Have you ever spent some of your time gazing at an alpine meadow filled to overflowing will delicate wildflowers ? Notice the wild bees, and multi-coloured butterflies galore. These seasoned insects couldn’t ask for more! The

A tumbler climbs a rain in all crimelessness. Perhaps you will never know my invaginating self. The thirst has become a river. A pile of books and I cannot read. The shadow lengthens on the wall. An eagle melts in

Lo and behold that feeling once more has returned To tease, test and torment dead past willfully spurned From window shut forever heard unmistakable creak A portent of ensuing havoc and destruction it’ll wreak Dilemmas deemed sorted in archives since

talking of fire and passion watch a scented pistil guiding the asteroids, did you hear the flawless silence after the cuckoo’s call, an interruption, a suspended pause, then a high pitched cascading note, moon is still hanging out on the

I’m a temporary guest, I will one day fall and distinguish, But you don’t deserve this title, because you are going to be here, you have the power, to turn evil into goodness, your destiny is different from mine, I

Poignant dreams chased by fictitious self; Serendipity of mind breaking the veneer of heart Vainful self once taking a back seat; Though not for long But the veracious sun does smile through Minuscule though it may be to me; Shallow

Depth of a bruised sea rising from the surface overwhelms the dumb shore shining for impossible tomorrow golden sand, the locked door. History repeats amnesia for a depressed meniscus shifts the nameplate. Here was laid the image of priestlees god

I am a man with an Unreservedly positive frame of mind. Knowing that frames are fatefully important As matter and metaphor. I wear shirts chiefly made of roomy pockets Trope for optimism And space for the melange of likelihoods, On

It’s just the way the world spins Things are never the same again Once a heart is broken it is never the same You can try and make those changes Try to get it back as it was But the

A frame lifts the skirt of a portrait and throws her genitalia on your face. A twin blast has taken place. Why did you stand for eclecticism? The fables will miss you and blue horse will not return home. The