Trying to squeeze through the 'rabbit hole'

"Would you teach me how to dance, uncle"
asked the little boy,
"No" said the dance to the uncle,
"I do not wish to be his toy!"

"When it rains, little boy" said the uncle,
"I will teach you how to boat".
"No" said the little boy to his uncle,
"I can't 'cause I'll be wearing a rain coat."

"In the winter, when it snows", said the uncle,
"I will teach you how to paint colors".
"No" said the snow to the uncle,
"I would rather prefer to remain duller."

What then, thought the uncle,
could he teach the little boy,
"Teach me to write a poem, uncle"
"For that would bring me a lot of joy!"

(c) Deapesh.

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More non-verse-sence !

Black text, grey cloudy messages,
foretelling the future;
like little birds flying away into the skies,
and fast disappearing into the horizon.

letters and thoughts unexpressed,
from feelings and experiences
felt and vicarious, prejudices all alike
appearing, asking again and again,
"can you not see it?"

And there at the break of the dawn,
smelling the awakening air,
in that stillness, I reach out
towards what is yet to come.
can you also feel it?

A tingling in your head, a twitching muscle,
a destiny, a long path ahead,
turning, twisting, as it may like,
courage and strength with you, on your side.

(c) Deapesh

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A poetic answer

to this.

IF three plus two wasn't five,
we surely today wouldn't have been alive,
but the waters still flow down daily,
as pretty smiles in those teary eyes.

What you may ask about life,
is provided in the riddle of the kite,
which flies daily high into the sky,
and at night, falls softly like a heavy sigh.

Creation and appearance, are all just so,
that we may ask, wonder and crave to know,
the clouds in their passing have told it all,
if only on your feet, you had landed on that fall.

Many have come, many more have left,
what remains at last, is just a 'beleft',
coming and going is just like a tide,
which has pushed many a dream to that side.

And yet tomorrow, the sun will shine,
your body will be locked in arms of mine,
the pleasures that you and I together seek,
have long borne fruit and struck roots deep.

Just counting the days you may simply pass,
the dreams dreamt over shadows on the grass,
but when you will wake up with a flushed face,
you will remember nothing of this place.

So go on, continue on your travels, sow what you have got,
and ask nothing of the questions which have been answered not,
and as these lines end in their length,
you will find hope, you will find strength.

(C) Deapesh.

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Zen Poetry - II

From the book: "Ryokan Zen Monk poet of Japan", translated by Burton Waston.

---

Midway in its flight
the bird burst into a song,
something to say,
which couldn't wait for a perch.

---

With what delight,
the pigeons practice their flight
from one window ledge to another
and then back again

---

Now and then,
You must long for your old nest
in the deep mountains -
I too have,
memories of the past.

---

Oh big bird,
ruler of the skies,
what could frighten you?
that you build your nests
high up in the mountains,
deep in the crevice.

---

It is not that
I never mix
with men of this world -
but really I'd rather,
amuse myself alone.

---

Showing their faces
showing their backsides
the autumn leaves fall.

---

Though travels,
take me to
a different stopping place each night,
the dream I deram is always
the same one of home.

---

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The visitor

Not once did he flap,
the visitor who came to check by.
while hundreds of pigeons took off,
flapping, turning, circling and restless,
all exploding into flight.

Between one ledge and the other,
a thousands flaps were heard.
but not once did he flap,
the visitor who slowly disappeared in his soar.

(c) Deapesh.

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Lazy Dreamer

This was so stupid, that I had to delete it !

Gosh, when will I learn to write a few lines.....

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Zen Poetry

From the book: "Ryokan Zen Monk poet of Japan", translated by Burton Waston.

In this village
coming and going
there are so many people -
but when you are not among them,
it's lonely.

---

When you are busy
you send word that you can't come
because you are busy
and when you are not busy
you send no word at all.

---

Though travels,
take me to
a different stopping place each night
the dream I dream is always,
the same one,
of home.

---

Wow !!

----------------------
Tag: Literature Poetry

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Have you?

Have you patched it yet?
a restart much needed,

crawling every where quick,
you won't know when you are hit!

Have you patched it yet?


-----------------------
Tag: Literature Poetry
Tag: Technical

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Alice !!

Take me there, to your wonderland,
where trees grow bare in spring,
and flowers in winter bloom,
oh Alice, take me to that wonderland,
this world seems so full of gloom !

Someone called, and I got to know,
that your wonderland was there,
where I wanted to go,
Alice, I wish I was there !
lazily on a boat, which we 3 were to row.

playing games that we all did,
asked the crocodile if we could cross the river,
while some hide and some seek,
amidst the flower fields, inside the rabbit holes,
yes, that is where I lived.

and the moon did shine,
the rain did flow in rivers,
while I collected sticks,
you swam in the river.

Alice, take me there,
to your wonderland.

(c) Deapesh.

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Marasim

As I hear to Gulzar's superb poetry in "Marasim", I wonder at the depth captured in the 2 lines:

"..din gujarata nahin hai, logon main,
raat hoti nahin basar tanha.."

(...can't spend the day amidst people,
can't spend the night in loneliness ...)

How can a poet live through all emotions? And know them so well as to squeeze the essence of life into a few lines?

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An outburst of JOY

A wall....
silent, mute, solid grey wall,
standing from ages at the very same spot, just there, a wall.

Its walls weathered, having faced the ravages of time,
the grey cold wall, stood there from a long time and stands there today
and will probably stand for a long time.

In front of it, damp earth.
Dampened by the day before's rain.

And there in a clump, swaying with the wind,
is an outburst of joy.
few yellow flowers swaying with the wind.
few yellow flowers defying the wall,
growing in the moist mud,
swaying happily with the wind,
an outburst of joy.

(c) Deapesh.

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strays....

somehow a poem of mine strayed in here....

--------------------------------
"...
no shackles, nothing chained,
the vastness of the lands,
the free blue skies,
existing from here to infinity,
existing continously.
in a moment is a life time,
a life time is a moment,
leaving just a dizzying trail,
deep into the blue.
"
--------------------------------
(c) Deapesh.

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