Saturday, 1 June 2013

Imprints of a future Prophet

‘Excuse Me!
all moral gaffes
Beyond our control--Creator’


Times need a prophet
a prophet who  distinguishes tears from rain

prophets return
when there is a dead moment!

the wait is over…
a prophet was born, yet to preach!

* * *
And thus he spoke--
‘am a guest on a cracked Noah’s arc
a being with an half-glow torch’ 

a group of children
chase each other in their game
they never heard of the prophet
for them game is all religion

the scream began—

‘Let angels descend on blue sands,
write stories of humanity,
no questioning of the sacred truths
no following of commandments’

pure truth….
pure trust!!!

‘let not time weep anymore
no histories cry over the past’
Oh! how it bleeds, the faithful heart
to avenge the dejected  stories of labourers, sailors and farmers
Night shrouds itself made from these black stories

‘let silence be given million voices
     and  voices be given freedom’

‘Let time be dead and reborn
for an ageless Epoch’

‘men follow their inward eye
and women their conscience
for a new world’

‘let not the price of tears be cheap
and let women watch the world out of a veil’

‘the days be reserved to discuss philosophy
and nights to ponder over sin and rewards’

‘when our self-portrait becomes colourless
Let us walk
with our footprints on waters of Time’

prophets’ words are softer than water…..

‘Om Shanthi Om Shanthi’

                                                -----vasudev (31.05.13)

Monday, 14 January 2013

Me and my Sea

Know not where it was born
It slips a silence into me quietly….

It carries, in its shrine, many
instruments of music, orchestrating all of them
she begins as an outburst of thousand drums
but collapses on the shore as self-tuning Sitar
I listen to the quiet Sea and its musings
They match with mine!

always wonder why no two waves are same
I get no answer except for their ebbing
Hinting that no two tribulations are same!                
I endeavor to run behind her trailing frills

Attempt to untangle the mystery
But return with a blue smile
Am I all alone by myself?
Suddenly I see a small wave around my feet
As if to console me!

She has been a partner in my soliloquy
Mixing black and white emotions wisely
I bear the music in my heart of hearts
She hugs me with all of her snowy smile
She is always in me
My sea….my dear Sea!

( Vizag beach has always been a spring of nostalgia – very many memoirs, haunting reminiscences; the songs from the waves drench me while the droplets soak me in affection)