anil gupta's blog

Beats of bettered leather
Cured for years in the
Moist warm weather
Have now acquired
A resonance of yore
You may wonder why do I
Oscillate in the swings of a heather
You are now tired
Of distractions and desires
That only care for when
but not, really whether

peel the skin, peel
what does it matter,
if the apple fell down from an old tree
it will still heal, it will still heal
peel the skin, peel

it is true that your love didnt beget the same
but it still was love, who can deny it ever
love, you must, love,
world thrives on its engine, no matter

peel the skin, peel

waiting to hear
what i can not say
is like clouds that want to rain
but cant decide where

walk on, just walk on
leave my unresolved questions
as the pebbles in wait of a river
to pulverise them into soil
moist, dark, rich and ready
for moss to grow, such that
cactus thrive
like a queen in the hive
just walk on, walk on

smiles scattered
all the light
i had conserved in my eyes
in a flicker of moment
the dams was breached
the river had to flow
the waves were free
from the limits
banks had imposed
they touched, every breath
unleashed as it was
the sprinkling of smiles had
beseeched the beavers
to build the dam again
will fishes spawn upstream again

Will you let it go,
The sprouts have to grow
More you cling
The tendril wind less
Creeper grows
Without climbing higher
Leaving light to complain
Why didn’t you just flow

The lustre
Of the sparkles
Shining
Around the source
Of faltering words
Distracts
But also delivers
The assurance that
Denial would not suffice
The spoonful cherries
Can be tasted
If the evening has aged enough
And the morning star would not be visible
On a cloudy forecast

When two leaves fall off a branch
About to break
Because o f strong winds
They it celebrate their deliverance
A few moments before that of
Shelter for so long
But when one of it makes
To your diary
As a bookmark
And reminds of the words
That a Sufi saint wrote
After his vows of celibacy were broken
In pain
To celebrate
A purposeless detour
But a meaningful exploration
Of the dust
That comes off a book shelf
Where all the books
Were kept
But not read
Lest the knowledge stupefies
The consciousness
And the words become butterfly
The leaf
The book
The butterflies
But the empty sky
The sensation of an aroma
Wrapped around a bouquet
Of flowers
Grown on the manure
Made of the other leaf
The second one
Which withered away slowly
So that I don’t forget the page
Of the book
The page
I wrote
When I was insane
Thankfully
Now
I write
Lest the obituary of sanity
Becomes a gospel
Of modern world

The Old tree is not shedding leaves any more
Rain has washed some of the stains
On the broken glass
The imprints of Tears
Have evaporated a bit
Aroma of tangential smiles
Joy of healed blisters
Healing balm of beautiful rays
Of morning sun
Will I be able to contain it
Will it stay on

You can climb on many trees
In search of sunlight
You can sprinkle smiles
To nurture many kites
You can illuminate the dark alleys
To be happy and bright
You can
You
Can

Purity of moments
Can not be measured
By making them monuments of arrogance
Indifference
And impatience
Kindness flows
When moments are not memorised
But dissolved
In the dutiful devotion