Ballad., durlabh2 [the best motivational books .txt] 📗

BALLAD


Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.

Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.

Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.

Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.

Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.

Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.


******

FLOATING WINGS.

Floating wings
Glorious forms
Destitute colours
Of toxic winds.

Having drunk
All the shades
Shine I will
Like a star
Bemoaning its
Cruel fate
Amid torrents
Of constant rage.

Gods of fear
Gods of nights
Gather up
Your stifled fight
Gods of chaos
Gods of confines
String together
An absent design.

Silent music
An invisible lore
Distant dirges
Of thundery pours.

Raining clouds
Under floating wings
Destituting the colours
Of the toxic winds.


********


WITHER MY SOUL

Wither my soul wither
In kitchen linked porcelains
In soup bowls in tea cups
In spooned coffees in breaking of bread.

Wither my soul wither
In icy cold buttress of four walled
In ticking of clocks in rippling of sheets
In marooned conscience in cowardly feats.

Wither my soul wither
In pivoted books in ages of lores
In museums and masquerades
In scribblings of dictionaries
In directories of repute.

I have withered, withered too my soul
In heaps of termites
In some sanctified superfluous ways
In rules of conducts in games of delights
With spooned coffee I have marked my brain
Structured insignias of dry rots of the times.


*******

HAVING BEEN HAPPY.

Having been happy in touching metallic skies
Or fingering the moon for its dusty overlay
Having been happy in moving orbs and the shores
Or spreading the sunshine to the burrowed moles.

Watching a lonely planet amid reluctant universe
Communications with eyelids in retinues of mankind
Having been happy in sweeping the volcanic dust
From a cold planet cast under the Brahma’s curse.

Having been happy in holding that repose
Which contained hidden geometry of the universe
Having been happy in consoling the suppressed cries
Of the shoring waves under the moonlit skies.


*********


LA MANCHA.

Bereft of the poetry of his soul
The knight took refuge in the house of death
Into darkness he went with his mind crushed
Wandering lust gone and with his own trust.

The enchanter gone
And disenchantment entered
And the land of La Mancha
Slowly turned to dust & cinders.

Talisman of allurements or of feasts
Chimeras of windmills or of fabulous beasts
Golden liquors and the shining decanters
Tales of poets sorcerers and of wizards
Adieu to stillness and the romance
Tryst and other typographical stance.

His merry madness had to go
And sanguine sanity had to be constructed
Don Quixote had to be demolished
And Alfonso had to be resurrected.

Alas! there is no poetry left now
In the lands of the Al Toboso
And no veils of Dulcinea now accrues
Across the knight of the mournful rue.


********


KISS

When I kissed you
In an arid waste of that cheek
The tangle of your hair did dissect
Indulged in making a tale brief
Of some sombre trivial demise
Of hope forlorn or of rainy nights
And the communication between two hearts
Flowered perhaps in meadows of grass
Sweet whispers stopped not
A song of soul on warm lips
Neither charm away nor stop now
The wonder of love in mind’s crypts.


*************

MORTAL NIGHTS

Mortal nights
The wind with serpents
The trees with stones
And stars with dust bowls.

The original nakedness of
Being
Cornered now with
Vacuity of gaze
Empty eyelids feebly abound
With nettles of teared streams
Mortal nights
Full of secrets
Full of arrows
Freshly calcined
In dust bowls the undertones
Amid heartaches begin anew
In seasons of whispered tones.

*************

Publication Date: 02-10-2011

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