LIFE MOVES TILL IT FALLS

Danish Bhat

Life moves and moves till it falls

Falls with the fall

And the winter calls

With the flip of pages, the years go

The years go with the flow

Like the sip and spill of coffee,

And the pages colour brown and crisp

The pages flip and the ears curl

Like swirled birch leaves,

Golden and fragile

And the agile readers come and go,

They judge, they throw and sow

The seeds of their twisted opinions

And mark the pages blue and black

With the new dawn, a new page,

The new dreams set in

Winters go and springs begin

Brings the foliage and flowers,

The sunshine and showers

Till the new page turns and fall befalls

And life moves and moves till it falls

Comments

Deadly water

DEADLY WATER Water was very cold, mother! When we fell into the river. You know how bad do I feel when you take me for a bath; I shivered for a while and then I felt numb, I froze to my last breath in the freezing water; I tried to hold my breath Like I do when you pour water on me, But it didn’t work this time! I tried to save my books, mother! Expensive books and my school bag, dad bought yesterday for me with small savings he had made; But it was too heavy, it pulled me down along Till I sank with the soaked pages I would read in the school to become an engineer, And make a bridge For my school across the river! It was morning prayer time, mother! You prayed for my long life and cooked food for me; You kissed my forehead and pulled me from the bed; Fed me with your sweet hands and dressed me up, a last time, for the school or angel of death; You combed my hair, kissed my cheeks and looked into my eyes, a la...

A MOAN

You remain the last remnant of my forsaken dreams I see them strangled within the echo of my screams Your thoughts left in the pot of my parched hopes, Gropes in dark for the arrows lost in arched strings Colours that sparked a spark to lit my flaring flame Blame and shame you with a shade of dark and grey You say you remain my straw in the stormy waters But the whorl offers sucking swirl to drown me down The random drops of blood like pearl on the sand Dry up like my enduring tears on stony stoic face I leave you were you left me in the stormy desert Where I revert to specks of dust under the sand dunes Lying buried to watch you beating your chest alone For what you have sown to what you moan!

FROM CHILDHOOD HOUR

DANISH BHAT From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then- in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life- was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.

DANISH BHAT

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