DEAR SLEEP

Sleep, you cheat!
You coward, you thief.
Quietly upbeat, as my weary nerves retreat-
Creeping from within of me.

Filling visions; requiring provisions.
Many a times, the peculiar kind.
Rattling to and fro, quite daintily though-
Offsprings of the eclipsed mind.

Trails of frost, stitched across
My cold, sullen windowpane.
While from the outside, bulky raindrops collide-
Appealing to my appalling pains.

Pain, is in a moment of truth
It’s in the time, which I realise.
That which probably was, apparently was not-
How it had been left behind.

Seeping in my sensitive skin,
But, alas! Finally in the past.
Maybe there’s more, to gloomy downpours-
Than the grey, ruthless rains.

-K.G.

THE CALL FOR AN ANSWER

Tell me you’re a palette;
Where colours of choice, socialise.
Tell me you’re the brightest star,
An element of paradise.

Tell me that you did exist,
Like a day of the past.
That which again will never be;
For it long ago, ceased to last.

Tell me what I do not believe-
That thing you’re not sure about.
Costing me so many nights,
In despair and in doubt.

Rise to power and boldly shine,
Find the merriest home.
Only, if I call for an answer,
Promise me, you won’t.

-K.G.

YOU AND I

If on an afternoon, you and I

Decide to set the drapes on fire
Cut the sagging telephone wire
Lying low on the backyard mire
We could catch the fleeting times
Meet the relatives of sunshine
And with each sound of the wind-chime
Escape into a different paradigm

If by all means, you and I
Could make some kites to fly
By letting them get as high
As beyond what gravity complies
Bound only by the slightest rope
To which we shall attach our hopes
And when it stations at the starry scope
You and I could quietly elope

-K.G.

(For PRS)

OF ATTITUDE

Let rains set in and kill the untimely weed,

So that in true season, may marigolds lead.

And thus she conveniently knells to retreat,

Before our etiquettes and unjustified needs.

Taught finely to read, write and criticise;

She is aware of all that there is in the sky.

Yet she seeks reason before she cries

Even before nursing dreams in her eyes.

Were she to exist or were she to remain?

Were she to comfort or question the pain?

And while she dealt with strains and restrains,

The ages quietly drizzled down like rain.

 

From there it seemed like an easy world;

From here, long gone is that pretty girl.

Her mascara, her pearls, her fancy dresses

Can hardly make up for her grey tresses.

-KG

TO THE WILD

To above and beyond; to voices more silent,
I boldly go- to an earth, less violent.
To seek only but reason that I must find,
Off the civilisations that grew so unkind.

Far from the educated and the highly civilised
There is but society which is yet exercised.
Sans lie, sans brood, sans all domestic perils,
No love, no hate; not even the wordily thrills.

No scrapers to fill the exploding skies,
Brighter vistas above to feed the eyes.
Residents reside in the green camouflage,
Some prefer humbler abodes; some live at large.

The vows of leaders seldom reach the wild,
Like the teacher's lesson to a back-benched child.
Here, the fancy comforts are so little required,
In dainty wildernesses; delicately wired.

Desire refuses to dismiss this want,
That binds the heart of beguiling haunts.
And if I die to the heavens see;
May this then that holy heaven be.

December, 2014.
Siat.

WHEN

When I begin to wonder; I never seem to cease;

Pondering sheepishly upon vivid extensions on me.

When I begin to act as per the actor in me,

Setting up a stage wherever I may please.

When I gather the gatherings of irrational fights,

That often rupture rudiments of probable antichrists.

When I relish the joys of a justified, dimmed sky,

Killing time with conscience without knowing why.

When I start to fall in love with songs I sing,

Delicately progressing through all that life brings.

When I go on to scorn the dirty liabilities I own,

How the guilty regal in me abdicates his throne.

When I dismiss my sufferings beside her as I walk,

Yet refuse to break silence or propose an awry talk.

When I eclipse dislike with a moony spread of lips,

Against distasteful company; very tough to ally with.

I often begin to write just how I am at this time,

With little hope of dazzling ever in easy sunshines.

So when I lastly cease to rant, write and breathe,

I pray someone recalls a ‘when' spent with me.

-Karan Ghosh

AMONG TALES UNTOLD

For sympathy's sake, on his demise,

Men talked of him, and women cried.

Till the day when a last breath he drew,

We scorned his rantings, just like you.

His suit I hear, went to his grave,

Pronouncing that the man was brave.

His life I hear, went into war,

Declaring that which he stood for.

No maiden of ours did he ever woo,

No confederate could get him through.

Hence no beloved marks his tombstone,

Just as him, his name alone.

Far from home, where his woman may await,

Unaware of her husband's twist of fate.

And here he lies, in a foreign land's cold,

Amid his chosen pride, among tales untold.

-Karan Ghosh