anil gupta's blog

The drops of sticky dew
Are not willing to dry
Rays of sun are insisting that they fly
Why are we not willing to be silent
When the window sails are asking
Why

I said no, when u wanted to hear yes
Is that the reason
Why bark of the tree is wrinkled
And the branches are bending down
Flowering is delayed
But the spring is around

dont look at the wall
i am taking a little rest
after along journey, in the woods of pine
you decided to walk your way
which is just fine
let me wash all the stains of love
left behind by the ploughs, sickles and tyne

i have not forgotten the grace
that was showered on my way
when the stones cracked
rivers were in spate
and the dry peaches
fallen from the trees
were taken away by squirrels

purple is the colour
of the flowers
that bloomed
when clouds were stingy
and moved away
come
sit down said the breeze
to the sprouts
in rush to grow
before senescence sets in

dont bemoan
the decaying bark
of a fallen tree
new sprouts
old scars
when will mist assimilate
multiple destinies

dont promise too much
o shadow
to walk along with me
on this curved path
too long
fallen leaves
have paved the milky way
with stars fallen from your eye
when the earnest gaze
was settled at a peak
too high

you are so stubborn
said the river to the rock
but then it only smiled
knew that river was joking
when it desires
nothing is left absolved
of its fury
breaking the armour of arrogance
sprouting seeds of strange valour
it disarms the waves
lets rocks laugh and smile for a while
who knows, how many corpses of caring sighs
it may pile

fragile flowers

dont let them dry
who knows
when will sky cry

the aroma of the arms
that engulfed a bit of moon
is not mine
any more
is it (not)sure
dont ask
why