Shell on the Shore

O, waves of the mighty ocean!
Roar more,
And more,
So your whisper
Reaches the shore!

And let the flurry of air
That you offer
Wheeze through my core,
So I would render
A melody that’s dear
For all that has ear
And a moment to spare
To immerse and hear!

[Published earlier at Different Truths]

This Too Shall Pass

Aching agony,
Shocking silence,
Curtailed freedom,
Harrowing hiatus
Too shall pass!

Silent chaos,
Subdued voice,
Ample anxiety,
Drooping amity
Too shall pass!

Pure parity,
Benign bonhomie,
Life joyful,
Peace bountiful
In the ‘paradise on earth’
Too shall amass!

Copyright ©Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

Rain Has Come But You

That summer evening,
When I was rubbing my nib
Against a blank paper,
You sounded harsh
And yelled,
You are done
For the season!

I broke the nib,
Tore the paper,
And took off!

And now that
A new season is on
And that’s of rain,
What stops you again
To alight on my parched nib
So I can flaunt
Your creation as my own
And amass some ovation?

Copyright ©Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

That Divine Response

This loggish, hoggish life isn’t
What I waited for,
So fervently,
However small it lasts!

The million prayers
I whispered in Your ears,
In Your sanctum sanctum,
I hoped, would help me
Trace the purpose
You begot me here.

Your harrowing silence,
Despite my noetic turmoil
Earned for my uncompromising,
Humanist stance that Your attorneys –
Krishna, Christ, Buddha and so – prescribe,
Thwarts my bountiful hopes
To humanize a few
Before You handpick me for
Your final embrace.

Send me, O God,
A divine response
Some mystic way
To infuse in me
The olden zeal
To live by singing and
Making others sing
Songs of praise for You.

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]

Terms of Peace

The uproars outside
Wouldn’t reach your ear!
The disquiet, the worries
Of your languid dreams
Wouldn’t even wake you up
From your deep slumber!

Hunger, spite or anger
Wouldn’t pester you
Any longer!
Your skin would rather
Get thicker and thicker!

Only then should I appear
Moments before you wonder –
Would I ever occur?

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]

Fetus’ Fate

If ever I knew
They’d make me
A means to reach
Their cherished end
That eluded them last time,
I might have thought again
Before I saw the light.

If ever I knew
They’d force on me
A life devoid of
My consent, only to gratify
Their swollen ego,
I might have thought again
Before I walked on the earth.

If ever I knew
Such obsessive possessiveness
Would replace
Their tender love
That nourished me inside
For so long,
I might have thought again
Before I came to the fore.

If I ever knew
They’d live afresh,
In me, to fulfil
Their dashed dreams
Usurping my only life,
I might have thought again
Before I cherry-picked their womb.

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]

The Coveted Dawn

Isn’t this the coveted dawn
That you longed for
Over those long summers
To live your remnant life afresh?

Look, your worries aren’t awake yet,
Troubles seem relishing their sadist dreams,
Sluggish vices are yet to bid the night bye –
As if sleep has numbed them all
Until your weak mind infuses
Into them fresh vigour again!

There, the vibrant glow on horizon
Preceding the Day’s King’s arrival
Brings in new hope
Clad in light and warmth;
And the soothing southern breeze
Whispers in your ears plain inspiration
Readying you to live like you must.

Dither no more, my friend,
Set sails forthwith,
At this opportune hour,
For, rewards that wait ahead
Oft come to the resilient few
Who never count their tumbles
Until they start anew and win.

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]

Another Mile Covered

Another year faded
Into oblivion
Before my eyes,
Amidst gala celebrations
In the immediate vicinity.

Another mile covered,
Closing the gap between
The inescapable Death
And my tepid existence,
Amidst the funeral rites
Of the dying year.

Yet, somewhere
Before my hopeful self,
Another avenue opened
Luring me to try again
To script virtuous deeds
That alone can stifle
The reverberating voices
Of the impending Death,
Impelling it to gratify its gluttony
Only by my mortal remains.

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]

A Lyre To My Muse

An hour before the dawn
When I wake up
To write the unwritten,
Words don’t listen to my call,
Thoughts seem yet relishing a deep slumber.

This rubbish that comes out still
Must I struggle to compose so
That you give it a go
And may inadvertently
Boost my poetic ego.

Unstructured thoughts
Adorned with unresponsive words
Resemble indifferent strangers with callous looks,
Crowding the clumsy creative space around,
Thus, aborting a timeless creation
For its no certain sin.

A divine bliss is
To have your inspired thoughts
Lead you to pick choicest words
To wrap themselves in, for, then
Your Muse cherry-picks you to be the lyre,
For some soothing, soulful lyrics to flow by,
Decreeing mellow music to multiply eternally.

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]

Your Failed Crops

O’ God, your pregnant silence
Has given them enough words
To make this abode
Clamorous to the core!

Your sickening inaction
Has swung them into action,
Often bereft of
Any ethical intention.

Your delayed justice
Has left them enough room
To gather fake evidences
Favoring their unjust action.

Your inconceivable omniscience
Has failed to infuse in them
Any willingness to trace
The beginning of their being.

Your grateful benevolence
Has lamed them so brutally,
Crippled them so horribly,
That they now mistake it
As their rightful allotment.

And, your mysterious inaccessibility
Despite your invisible ubiquity, O’ God,
Seems to have lent them
Some unguarded authority
That has widened the gaping gulf
Between You and them.

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]