Scraps..here and there..everywhere

Scrap 1

hear?
hear that voice call out my name,
from those edges.

see?
see that albatross
flapping wings in the firmament

see?
see that skylight
and cobwebs
sticking around

messed up
patched and thatched
poetic existence
that brewed from
coffee, window and conversation
nicotine too
and
reeling under the pressure
of tomorrows

if only there weren’t any today.

that rickshaw puller there
has a today implanted
in every tomorrow of sanity

the tiny wildflower bending
its neck under the autumn sun
has a today too
full of scrutiny
and surveillance of the garden
and the endless blue above.
and tomorrow it may think of
butterflies and mossy bricks
which make her home

history will decay
as I observe
revolutions and reformations

and the rickshaw puller
and the wildflower
in the crannied wall
will never be there
in the history of kings.

let them be here
buried in love, labour,
curiosity meshed with
midsummer’s madness
in the abundance of geography;
let them be here
used up, recycled and then
reused again,
in my self contained
self made eternity!

Scrap 2

Leaves.
Summer leaves.
Green, yellow, flaming red
Like the lava flowing,
Crisscrossing its way
Like the endless stream of history
Oft repeating oft silent
And full of dark remorse.

Season of blue.
Leaves turn greener.
Soaking pieces of summer’s strength
In madness of rainclouds
In the periphery of blue mountains.

And in autumn redder still.
Radiant and crimson
Blushing in the austerity of age.

Winter and whiteness.
Pale morbid listless
Lifeless.
Bits of losses strewn in blank verse.
Nothing.
Nothing remains.

And the cycle then. The sea gives back what it takes.

Come back green and yellow and red
In flaming red.

Burn me out. As you had burnt death.
Growth, water and decay.

Stop!

Stop here. Stop now.
Stop by this evening
Stop inside this night's womb
Breathe not, sigh not.
Stop and live in my journey
Of thousand years,
Of scents and sounds,
Of flames and radiant fire
In your eyes and my vision.
Stop in youth and age,
In abundance and in obscurity,
In the light of light,
Aurora Borealis and in twilight!
In the fathomless deep
Of the darkness that drips
Sigh by sigh,
Breath by breath,
Sweat by sweat,
And where in every drop
I find a poetry rising
From distant ashes of Serbia,
War, destruction and civilization.
Carcass of my faith
Falling redundant on the face
Of annihilation.
Rise again O brother!
Rise in those waves
That created my rippling poetry
Of another land, another time
Another day to be.
I breed of life, I smell of the ecstasy
You found in sea shells.
I love myself. I love this reflection
Of what I see, of what I dream
Of the hourglass from past,
Of the mirror from future
Standing tall on this grass of present
I chew some. I leave some
And when I ruminate
I ask you to stop.

Stop here. And feed me.

Jasmine

Jasmine,
Jasmine,
In your
Fragrance-
I drown..
I drown
My sense.
Jasmine,
Jasmine,
Shall I
Pluck you?
Will you
Be then,
Mine?
Scent, heart
And flower-
Aladdin
Will be
Your poet
Always..
In our
Self made
Bower!

Then,
Flower,
River
And wine-
Poetry,
Lovesongs,
Sophocles

All mine!

shall i love you....?

shall i love you
as i love the touch
of your fingers and
the smell of your skin
in coffee and tobacco?
the sweat trickles
down your brow
and it meanders past
the rough nape
and merges swiftly
in the shadow we form
together in its mediocrity.
shall i love you as the
nightingale loved the rose,
the rose loved the prince?
and the prince loved
the sunset always.
shall i love you sweat by sweat
breath by breath? and then
with the tiny prick of the thorn
and the tinier drop of blood
like a purple sunset--
shall i love you like a twilight?
ever now and never then
and shroud you in my
momentary brilliance?

Songman

Songman

You sang in subterranean times
In orange and blue and earthen colours,
Of wind chimes, church bells;
Of de ja vous and happy evenings,
And sadness of the grim layer of bricks
Forming the contour of cobblestones
Of my street, where I played the Pied Piper
To whisk away your frenzied dreams
That died on your lips while you sang.

You sang again while raincolours
Gathered dust and the bends i took,
And the blue through which i meandered
Remained cluttered in abstract half hearted dreams
Of the seven seas; and the utopia somewhere
I was about to discover in some alien Greek morning.

You sang again when the tartars came
And when war begot my time
And poetry died a thousand deaths
Like my love songs to sunsets, twilight
Rome and kaleidoscopic evenings.
You followed my untraced footsteps on sands
And waded through waterlogged streets
Of the unexplored virgin i called my kingdom
And you called it Heaven.

And it is soft
Like autumn breeze
And it is like the river
And never cease.

And I may fail
In wooing spring
E'en though lovesongs
Of Far Away I sing.