Author: anilg

a tendril
turned in the  air
could not hold the arms
why should bridges be so weak
when one needs a reason
for not crossing the river

————-

have resolved many times
to stay afar
when the fire engulfs
the forest of silent desires
today
i saw, the mountain cried
stream of its tears
took a heavy toll
of all the unripe
dreams
—————-

volcano had been simmering for years
but had not made up its mind
whther to exlode
and enclose
the valley of patience

——————–

when the bells rang
priest went inside
i was left waiting outside
i am still waiting,
priest is  meditating
unable to decide
whether to meet me or not
impure as i am
he can not fathom
why He likes impurity over
indolence

why should fallen leaves be allowed to flow away
when they can as well be burried
to nourish your roots
but then the nests of birds
in your arms
o tall old tree,
will not mind some of these leaves
be used to
pave the way for young ones
may i suggest
that you dig a pit, little away from the roots
and see if wind will push some of the dried leaves
in that pit
burried deep
they will disappear
and i will then not remind
you of their smell

do not walk on wet road

who knows when will

it dry up

with your footprints intact

reminding all those who follow

why were you so impatient

when the train stopped
the whistle was blown
but now the train has started
—————————————————

you asked me
what is the name of the star
which fell down,
when we both looked at it

——————————————–
i had not seen the hands
which trembled yesterday
i will now speak lightly

———————————————-

when berries have dried
go and pick up  the seeds,
replant them in the garden
of love in your backyard
which is where you began to enjoy
the music of myenahs
and the sight of lillies you planted
in winter
when nothing else grew,
the smell of mint and
the basil leaves that did not survive

are all there to recall
only if you would have time
to listen, touch and feel
the purity of intimate air
without beaconing an expectation
and yet so sure
so certain
but not without doubts
of intentions impure
you have to decide
whether to smile and laugh
or be worried and
then cry
to ask for the moments
which can only revive
the pain
but then when did you really like
the clear sky

you have yearned for clouds
that will dissipate sooner than later
though their shadow can create the
illusion of evening
but why not seek
the silence of the night
\when birds have gone back to their nest
and he is around
who you rever, healed and brought back
from the  cliff of time
only to be left
alone when spirit was waiting to be sublime

today when distances donot claim
all the space
and are neither able to squeeze the
the bubble of time
i wonder
why did one plant the seeds of
evergreen cactus
which flowers only when
we are tired
of growing flowers in the beds
in which we never poured water
not even our intimate tears
i think the time has come
to face the truth
of our lives
when we crave for attention
we actually cry
because we never looked at the small
things which nature
showed us and left us to try
to see
hear and feel,
but we were busy
with abosrbing
loud screams
only of those
who did not have really any time
for listening to their  inner voice

today when distances donot claim
all the space
and are neither able to squeeze the
the bubble of time
i wonder
why did one plant the seeds of
evergreen cactus
which flowers only when
we are tired
of growing flowers in the beds
in which we never poured water
not even our intimate tears
i think the time has come
to face the truth
of our lives
when we crave for attention
we actually cry
because we never looked at the small
things which nature
showed us and left us to try
to see
hear and feel,
but we were busy
with abosrbing
loud screams
only of those
who did not have really any time
for listening to their  inner voice

misty morning
moist leaves
looking out of my window
i see wrinkled crease
on the curtain held covered
for long by the neighbour
but the sultry weather
still atmosphere
a braclet around the curtains
folded after all
why does mist prevent
me to see
the face
of a stranger
who will not be seen
when sun brightens the day

misty morning
moist leaves
looking out of my window
i see wrinkled crease
on the curtain held covered
for long by the neighbour
but the sultry weather
still atmosphere
a braclet around the curtains
folded after all
why does mist prevent
me to see
the face
of a stranger
who will not be seen
when sun brightens the day