In the memory of one of my inspirations Sylvia Plath who born on 27th October 1932 & died on 11th February 1963.
The night unfurling silence
Wet petrichored psithurism echo
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…
lieng in shade thinking
dead he feel free no body
knows except him why
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.
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,
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…