anil gupta's blog

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a few lines
all the gifts
will it suffice to say
did you offer so much
as i was about to empty myself?

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a little angel’s art, one year two month old archisha

dont complain
why did the birds fly away
but nest still exists
who knows
they may come back some day
with renewed faith in the nest or breeze
dont cry
smile
sky still has a lot of clouds
ride on the dense one
and rain
in my garden

when a ship
swirls away
from its path

its navigation system has failed
invite
STORM
for breakfast

but storms dont come just by invitation ( sometimes)
demolish the lampposts
i am trying
will you also try
you lost wave

hopes are still alive
nurture them or
search and grow
seeds of pain

or invest your dreams,
in the eyes of a child
who will walk on paths unknown
without worrying about loss or gain

Don’t wail
It has already rained
So much
Who will notice drought
Of desires

strings of a sitar
very far
melodies
sung by birds on that old tree
in your garden
whose stories
you always told those who
cared to listen
stay around
o
sound
light
feel
touch
silence
just stay still

will you go away
how could you
as if a river can flow back to its origin
you have flown
so long
but then sometimes
river meet the sea
stormy and not so quiet
but you are the storm
hope you will sweep
all that
came in your way
and a sprit
will sustain
my hope
i am the sea

Don’t drool over the dusky shades
The evening is still to pass
The uncertain ties in the game are not getting resolved sooner
Don’t give up
Try
To be patient
Who knows the
Starry night
May hold some surprise
You may actually get
What you wish
Let time pass through
The whorl of your hairs
They are still tied well

I will reflect
On the things that I let pass by
And also on things
That trapped me
Like A tie
But knots will unravel
The twists of a stream
Saving all the pebbles
And of grief
All the gravel

I feel too much
She said
I asked
What is too much
The tea spilling over the brim
Or tears unable to respect
The edges of the lake
But will silt of stillness
Fertilisers the soil of sadness?
Sanctity of silence
Sprouted in your garden
Will sustain
When too much becomes
Just enough
May be