HIS FORTRESS

His fortress consumes none inside,

Yet, vows of companionship he recites.

No doors lead inside those grey walls,

Upon which all natural forces do befall.

You may gaze at him while he perches and smiles,

Upon the stony portico, looking beyond miles.

But hardly meet anymore than his eyes;

Those that captivate, those which conceal several cries.

Not an opening did the maker provide,

As if he intended a provoking divide.

Provisions for several windows are yet still made,

Beside which his silhouette sits and contemplates.

Through the window, what you see,
In you it brews curiosity.
From where you stand, its a brilliant sight!
Who knows but what else within resides.

-Karan Ghosh

LAMP POSTS

Standing like a prima donna,

On the stage of reclusion-

The beam of man-made brilliance
Howls in almost isolation.

Thickets providing shelter,
To stray society-hounds-
Turn golden in the gleam,
And charming paucities of sound.

At day, there is no stage to see,
The beam stands in tiny dignity;
A station for feathered daredevils,
A thrill to share in solidarity.

None sees the moon's disloyalty,
When stars twinkle alone at night.
Nor do they see the constancy,
Of lonesome lamp posts, each twilight.

-Karan Ghosh

THE PREACHER AND THE OUTLAW

Fate organises an assembly,

Of men hailing from opposite runs.

At a half-mooned twilight;

One held a cross, the other, a gun.

With no twisted intentions involved,

Both men stand with different calls.

One stands for a bounty,

The other, to cleanse evil that befalls

"The greed of shimmer is a curse,

Dyes the soul in stubborn shades of grey."

Probes the gallant preacher,

To the outlaw; this society's prey.

"Mother refused me her milk,

And my father refused me his name.

I'm the breeding of uncivil wastelands;

For which I cannot be blamed."

As words escaped his mouth,

More compassion in the preacher conjured.

His eyes peered through the man before,

A flurry in his head, a desire to cure.

"Oh seeker of unreal illusions,

Pray contemplate upon what I foresee-

Your heir gets in heritage your sham,

And leads a life that you lead.

I wander on a path of truth,

And someday I'll lie in soil, free of lies. 

You march in manners which you may please,

But share not your past with the child."

Arms on the cross unarm the armed,

An outlaw fades, a noble within survives.

A father saves a father to be,

The shepherd draws another herd to life.

-Karan Ghosh

BLOODBIRDS

Trials were made,

Yielding just deceit.
Loitering aimlessly,
Two starved birds meet.

Regard providence,
Or put the stars to blame.
On a common branch,
They seek refuge in a rain.

Comfort in times of need
Is medicine to the ill.
They rendered, they received,
And united in free will.

Above a deeply rooted oak,
Soon bloomed a nest.
Higher than worldly matters,
Hidden from the rest.

Gradually the nest grew old,
And the occupants, mature.
The ties began to rupture,
The union seemed unsure.

Wars that lust did wage,
Consumed faith by decay.
Togetherness became a strain,
With each passing day.

Diversion is the inevitable,
Amid mates taken for granted.
The two parted ways,
To seek what they wanted.

Years later they meet again,
En route to the forsaken nest.
Like pirates coming home,
For their final rest.

-Karan Ghosh

A MISSING STANCE

Baseless skies, become evidence,

At a hearing of separation.

A rupture matures and unlocks

An aged, mutual fixation.

The wise prefer roots to fruits,

While dreamers devour yields.

Some celebrate within for walls,

Others set fires at the fields.

An enriching profit for all,

This eternal loss for the two 

Attendants retire to greener pastures,

The victims go homeless and blue.

Both see a roof over their heads,

But no home under their roofs.

They took their remains with them

And lost identity in each other, aloof.

Rains poured through grey days, since,

And summer breezes have advanced.

All forces resumed their paces,

Paying homage to a missing stance.

-Karan Ghosh

BLUE TWILIGHT

Her bed was a forgotten landscape,

One upon which unlit shadows prevailed.

They drizzled renditions of a blue twilight,

The river was pouring, the bank was pale. 

Upon satin sheets were creases of yore,

That paved way to undiscovered roads.

Like puny settlements for dying folklore,

Losing to desires that our hearts unload.

Clumsy gestures resisted silence to invade,

While incurable dreams made her sigh.

Emergence from games that she once played,

Were celebrations of her enlightened cries.

Could I stay or could I depart?

As the dawn arrived with her veil of sense.

Or could I enclose this in my heart,

Like another sweet remembrance?

-Karan Ghosh

TRYING TO LOSE

They said you were in love again,

Is it another of your fancy medicines?

I see you by the river almost everyday,

You look terrible, tell me how've you been?

Remember you once had a black guitar?

That you sold for a couple of bills.

Do you regret selling out your dreams,

Or do you cherish taking those pills?

I don't wanna gatecrash your brains,

No, that's not what I do anymore.

I heard the songs that put glitter on you,

But I like the songs that you wrote before.

What are you trying to lose so bad,

To gather all things that make you sad?

What are you trying to gift yourself,

Against my photos on your shelf?

You show yourself among friends at day,

I wonder if they know you at night.

Where's your pride when you're played,

You said you'd fight the good fight.

All those pretty face that surround you,

I don't see why they should cause guilt.

I'm glad that you're tucked in comfort,

In the dream palace that you built.

Its a lousy day here, its a cloudy day,

Did your ignorance condense in the skies?

Mommy told me about this earlier,

I guess this is how I had to realise.

What are you trying to lose so bad,

To gather all things that make you sad?

What are you trying to gift yourself,

Against my photos on your shelf?

-Karan Ghosh