Septimus

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"Evans! Evans!" Cried he.

Heavens eyed it idly.

"Evans!" Wailed the victim;

reached no one to rid him.

Birds- they sing in Greek, O!

Words that sting 'n' reek, O!

Listen! Listen, only-

hear the hyperbole.

'Fear no more', his dictum.

Cheer 'encore', or succumb.

Steer no more; don't speak, O!

Birds- they sing in Greek, O!

"Evans! Evans!" Cried he.

Veins or brains- thus, died he.

'Fear no more', his dictum.

And insane they called him.

Lend it not a shriek, O!

Mend it, make it weak, O!

Look not; feel it coldly,

kissing your minds boldly.

Sang he, "Evans, don't come!"

'Fear no more', his dictum.

Look not; Death is bleak, O!

Lend it not a shriek, O!

The Spell of Summer

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Sometimes a frost may shackle summer days

or gag the yellow sun or make it blind.

Sometimes the sky may lose its burning gaze;

reject compassion and appear unkind.

Sometimes the shady tree may bleed its green

to drench with envy, lovers come to rest.

Sometimes the steely brook may need a screen,

to quench the frenzied divers, trying best.

Sometimes the buds may bloom a little late;

prolong the wait of graves beseeching hope.

Sometimes the breeze may blow and yet not sate
a breathless being trying his best to cope.

To scavenge passion, Nature feigns a grace-

becomes a Mother and then changes face.

There will be Time

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“There will be time”, said he, eyeing his return

to reality from dreams yet unspent.

“There will be time”, sang he, “to burn and learn,

to descend infernal stairs and repent.”

“There will be time, there will be time to churn

the murky sea of thought and then relent

when the dividends are all mine to earn-

there will be time”, hissed he like a serpent.

“There will be time, yes, time to take the turn

to God's own chamber and beg with knees bent.

Won’t there be time for what I now adjourn,

enough time to say what I never meant?”

“No. There won’t be any time to undo”,

hummed his heart and he bled a tear or two.

An Ode and Omen

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What sorrows shall ever teach you, my love-
I have known it all before our time came.
A hell down under, a heaven above-
'tis but a truth I bleed, shackled in shame.

Of a heart that hopes and in horror hails
a fearless saviour from another world,
of silence and shrieks and beckoning wails-
I have known of the flags never unfurled.

Of desires draped in dawns of tomorrow,
of deaths awaited in dreams of today;
of a forlorn faith in stormy sorrow-
I have known the lies that a life may say.

I pour my tale to you, I spin a yarn-
Not to save you, dearest; but to forewarn.

Anonymity

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Untruths are all I have for you and me-

Today is broke, Tomorrow is empty.

No dreams or any possibility;

all I see is my anonymity.

I once got drunk to my capacity,

when your eyes had exuded poetry.

Am I now to know souls' opacity?

Or love's unlimited ability?

Who knows if time will ever set us free?

Are we here now for what will never be?

Untruths are all I have for you and me-

Today is broke, Tomorrow is empty.

No dreams or any possibility;

all I see is my anonymity.

Aurora in Kashi

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Celestial candles kindle ceremony,
and then renounce their golden flame to die.
Beguiling dawn, a monk descends the steps
to Ganges, as rays appear and ripple
the river's face and as oars divide air
into a spoonful of soundless voices.

A flawless bird delivers skies of doom;
its fluttering vanquishes silence and
it glides away leaving on the canvas,
the vermillion of its victory.

A temple gong awakens the idols
and rises she from her daylong slumber;
hurries Aurora in her saffron cape,
spilling its colour on the earth and sky.

To the Sonneteer

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A jingle, July- poured the juice of joy,
but thirty trickles took away its tang.
The days departed and with their convoy
went poetry and now remains a pang.

Bestowing love with leeway, is he still
belittling beauty, being its basis sole?
Beguiling rhyme, bequeathing beats at will,
benumbing bosoms with his odic dole?

O sonneteer, serenade me today,
sing again 'n' lend my palms a prayer.
Let horizons blend with tears and obey
this ardent longing, the colour of air.

A hundred hymns on hope my heart recites,
that you'll return soon with your past delights.

Cassiopeia

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Eons elapsed and orbits disappeared-
the scope of space had her still stupefied.
Insipid infinity as I'd heard,
is myth, misery, misdeeds, multiplied.

Wasn't treachery that had the throne altered
and all her treasure so tactfully tied?
Celestial confines for a queen cornered
blamed, shamed and ceremony-denied!

O Cassiopeia! To have suffered
a sacrifice and then twice be tried,
to have travailed for justice deferred
when 'twas only oracles you'd complied!

Aye, Cassiopeia couldn't you foresee-
Vanity's sentence, an eternity.

A Sage's Saga

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The sky sprinkled its suffering, saline
upon a godless globe of glaring ghouls.
So, she sipped the salt to save all souls,
gathered grief in her gut, the grave gamine.
Some saw submission, some sketched her serene,
some gazed at her and glorified her goals.
And she sucked sentiment until her strolls
garnished gloom with grace, granted Gray some Green.

Her skirt she swirled as the sun shone so soon-
goring glory, looking a gilded glaive.
Some squinted at her and some she saw swoon
gaily, as her gift gushed into the grave.
Aye! Salt and the skeleton lay strewn
as God gladly gobbled all that she gave.