27th Not Far…

In the memory of one of my inspirations Sylvia Plath who born on 27th October 1932 & died on 11th February 1963.

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Poem from a Sick Poet

The morning was bright sunned

All that my sick body & bed want.

Now, it is murky & cloudy

Evening is not so far as rain seems.

I need a sleep I know very well

But, how can I…am scare…

Scare of dreaming her again

Head in her lap & she comb my hair.

Though it helps me to sleep,

But, sometimes I want to sleep…

Just sleep not dreaming

Either her or a random dawn–

Walking down the beach–

With my pet, dead long ago,–

In the tow…I just want to be asleep…


The night wind chiming ticks of the night

The speedy car rhyming monsoon drops.

Lying in dugged up abyss, I’m waiting

To have the soil over me, (to) sleep soundly.

Your love can rewake the beat stopped

But, don’t think of returning, I disavow you.

I reject all the earthly ties, all hold-backs

’cause death I want to be keeper of the sins

Of yours, all your misdeeds, all your deeds.

Smile as you’re smiling; keep on smiling

Someone, everyone, grasp the wet soil

And sprinkle on me, choke me.

Someone, everyone, pyre my writings

Sing a song of Tagore monsoon merry.

Don’t you dare to come in front of me

Don’t you dare to drop a tear in apology.

What all are you looking at; come on hurry,

Do not keep the vigil long for the await.



Autumn is Far

Night sky not lightened by moon

By the stars of a constellation.

I’m lying under it,

Hands under head,

(And) a cigarette on mouth…

Nothing to hold on,

Nothing to think on…

A planet is shining bright

How old is it light?

I feel a restlessness;

I felt the silence 

After a storm hurled…

At same time, 

In unison,

I feel gagged, 

But, death will not come

So easy, so quick 

At this time…

The autumn is far

I’ve to tell more few stories

I’ve to speak more verses

Before that serene dawn…