Raindrops: Set of Three Haikus(photo by author)

Raindrops on leaves drip,
A transient impermanence,
Expectant earth waits.
**

Raindrops on leaves.


Tomorrow leaves fall,
Moist earth embraces the dead,
Rejuvenation.

Cherish the beauty,
Short life,lifelong memory,
In death, renewal.


I haven’t posted much on my blog for some time now. After a long forty day road trip of 9425 miles across USA, I was most probably getting lethargic. Few weeks back I started to write a long short story in my mother tongue Axomiya (Assamese) on my Facebook wall. Well, to make a long story short, after twenty eight episodes and nearly twenty seven thousand words, I haven’t yet seen the light at the end of the tunnel and falling very far behind. To be precise, still traveling hundred and eighty years in the past. I have still a long time to catch up to the present. I took the photograph of raindrops on rose leaves yesterday morning and as I was looking at the photo today, and it’s a gorgeous sunny day today, thoughts that came to my mind were transcribed by my fingers to a set of haikus. Obviously the rust shows.

A few scattered pearls: সিঁচৰিত মুকুতা মণি

I generally write in any one of the four languages I know and then I translate sometimes to others. Normally, it’s confined to English and my mother tongue, Assamese (Axomiya). The one liner poems below, I started writing as it came and started translating simultaneously. For convenience of my readers, I am placing the English one first followed by the Assamese. However, they were not written and translated in any particular order.

Walking up a moonbeam to meet your love, have you seen your dreams shattered?
প্ৰেয়সীৰ সন্ধানত জোনাকৰ পম খেদি গৈ,দেখিছানে সপোন চুৰমাৰ যোৱা হৈ?


Looking up at the sky on a dark night, have you seen your dreams diffused among the glittering lights?
এন্ধাৰ নিশা তৰাবছা আকাশলৈ চাই, দেখিছানে সপোন তোমাৰ তৰালীৰ মাজত যোৱা হেৰাই?


If ever I lose myself in my poems, look for me among the few scattered pearls between the lines.
কেতিয়াবা যদি হেৰাই যাওঁ মোৰ কবিতাৰ মাজত, বিচাৰিবা মোক কবিতাৰ শাৰীৰ এমুঠি সিঁচৰিত হৈ থকা মুকুতা মণিত।


Not a purveyor of dreams unrealistic, my imagination takes flight seeking the unknown.
নহ‌ওঁ অলীক সপোনৰ পিয়াসী, মন মোৰ উৰা মাৰে অজানৰ সন্ধানত।


Why the moon has such a fatal attraction, I only look for beauty where none exists.
কিয় বাৰু জোনাকে মোক কৰে আকৰ্ষণ, মইতো মাথোঁ নোহোৱাতো কৰো সৌন্দৰ্য্যৰ অন্বেষণ।


There are more where it came from, just afraid that if I bared all, there will be no tomorrow.
আছে আৰু বহুতো গোপনে বুকুত, ভয় হয় যদি দিওঁ নিজকে উজাৰি, নেদেখিম পুৱাৰ সূৰ্যোদয়।


Neelakantha

Neelakantha, the name of Sadashiva, God of destruction to recreate in Hindu triumvirate, drank the deadly poison that came out during the churning of the ocean for the celestial nectar or Amrita by the gods (Devas) and the demons(Asuras). The deadly poison, Halahala, if allowed to escape, would have destroyed the whole universe and as Amrita had not manifested yet, there was no recourse. To save the universe from destruction, Shiva drank the poison but kept it suspended in his throat as otherwise he would also have perished from the poison, throwing the universe into utter chaos. As a result, his throat ( Kantha ) became blue (Neela) from the deadly effect of the poison Halahala. From that time Shiva also is known as Neelakantha.

When the mind is set free,

Unshackled from its reins,

And let it roam around,

A treasure trove it explores, and

Along with the pearls,

Comes up the muck.

 

When the gods churned

the ocean,

In search of the celestial nectar,

Up came the poison

To obliterate the universe.

Will I have the strength

Of Shiva

To drink the poison and

Be Neelakantha,

Or will I perish

To the lure of the glitter,

Seduced and discarded

In plain sight of the nectar?

 

Oh, the allure

of the enchantress!

Giving in to my senses,

Let me drown

In your ephemeral beauty tonight,

And cool my passion.

Let the fire of desire

Be quenched by

The touch of those lips,

Nary a drop of nectar

That will ever touch.

Let the poison devour me,

And nectar wait.

What good is immortality

That will erase my memory

Of thy celestial, transient beauty.

 

A rose is a rose by any other name

Stay at home is grinding on. Slowly I am losing count of days and dates. From barely a few infected cases in the beginning of March, the United States of America is now the world leader in number of people infected and deaths. We are in a trajectory to surpass the number of US soldiers who laid down their lives in the Vietnam war. Somewhere the story of make America great again (MAGA) has become the story of make America sick again(MASA). All these acronyms remind me of Indian classical ragas, maga, masa, sani, dhasa etc., etc. Ah, but I digress. Politics is like opium, once one is hooked, difficult to get rid of the bad habit.

Through all these, nature had been busy doing her work. Spring is always beautiful and our valley is at her resplendent best during spring. The medows are verdant and myriad blooms grace the area. It seems nature, unburdened by pollution this season, is at her gregarious best. It’s more colorful, more fragrant and more of every adjective one can think of. Ever house frontyards in the neighborhood been blessed with nature’s beauty. Alas, the owners are all inside locked doors. Not that in general there are people milling around in an American suburb. But normally during spring and summer, weekends and holidays bring people out onto the street. I think Corona or COVID-19 took care of that. However for the brave souls who hazard out of the house to take a stroll, it also offered an uninterrupted opportunity to enjoy the bounty of nature in the neighborhood.

Whenever I am out for a walk with my dog, I have my cell phone with me. The nearly deserted streets invite me literally to stop and smell the roses. And when I am at it, I also try to capture a snapshot to augment my memory. As I was scrolling through my phone gallery today, I realized that I have a large collection of photos of flowers many of which I am not familiar with at all. Now my dear readers, you all may be more knowledgeable than me about flora and fauna of your locality but I have no hesitation of sharing my ignorance. In the process I hope I can brighten your day a little. I promise not to share more than one a day and also promise that all subsequent posts will be brief. So without further adieu, here is the first one.

A rose is a rose by any other name.


What’s in a name

By whatever name call thee

You are one and the same

Beauty of the Heart

When your red cheeks shamed the setting sun

And filled me with desire as I called your name

As I drank from the overflowing cup of your love

Never for a moment thought of the day far, far off

When the setting sun would still set the sky on fire

Colors would not paint your cheeks red as you grow older

But the glow in your heart would still fill me with desire

And the beauty of your heart, my darling, would keep me inspired

 

Poison ivy : RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge # 217 Poison & Past

This post is in response to Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge .

Poison Ivy on the variant cover of Batman vol. 3, #26 (September 2017). Art by Joshua Middleton.

Variant cover of Batman vol. 3, #26 (Sept. 2017)
Art by Joshua Middleton(from Wikipedia)

Poison ivy she
Alluring beauty seduced
Peace now in my past

She did not come to steal my heart

‘Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns?’—W.B. Yeats

The doe eyed beauty looked up and my heart melt

She walked daintily as if not to leave any mark, full of grace

Nature endowed her with all the beauty, she looked resplendent

A graceful curvaceous body  adorned by a beautiful face

My heart aching to reach out to her but I was afraid

She stole my heart as I looked at her hazel eyes

A red rose from the garden an appropriate gift, I surmised

Thanks I was not expecting but her acceptance  be my prize

Called out to her softly, asked her to wait

My heart beating, gently I went to pluck a rose

Surprised she darted changing her gait

As I saw my devastated garden, my heart froze

Did not wait for my rose, she did not come to steal my heart

After her voracious appetite, my rose garden will need a fresh start
deer (2)
©Pranab2017


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Sixteen

 

 

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