Original Sin and the Forbidden Fruit

Thy thin waist, the
Twin crescent moons,
In those curves
I dive,
Douse my love, and
Emerge purified;
The puritans, the believers,
Paint it as lust.


Those who look for beauty,
Only in merging with
The one unseen,
Blind are they to nature’s gifts, and
Brush it as the original sin.


Let them search
For the fountain of
Everlasting peace in heaven,
One never seen,
I have found mine
In my imagination,
And is blessed,
By the forbidden fruit.

Ignorance

I have not posted much on my blog for quite some time now to avoid the madness that the country is experiencing at present clouding my thought process and introduce undue negativity in my writing. However I had a sinking feeling that rust may have set in due to the prolonged non-use. I am not even sure if the piece below can be called a poem or not. I tried to stay away from politics as much as possible, so there is nothing political in the post. However readers beware, it has my other favorite topic, religion. So if you feel that you may be offended, stop here. I shall understand.

Ignorance

Bidding good bye to the night, the moon asked the rising sun,

What’s your religion, do you identify as Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, Christian or Mussalman?

Painting the dawn sky red, the rising sun brightly replied,

I have but one and only one religion, that is to spread warmth and light.

From the beginning of time I shone my light on the earth without malice,

All the sages and seers, Zarathustra, Moses, Buddha, Jesus and Muhammad, all seen the light.

I do not discriminate, Vatican to Mecca, Jerusalem to Ayodhya,I spread the same light,

Every corner of the earth, everything I touch, I nurture without any divide.

Why suddenly is this question of religion, what are you trying to imply,

Now that humans trying to colonize you, are you afraid of being maligned?

Have you not noticed everything that nature has provided are free, no religions attached,

The light, wind, water, sound, all forces of nature, even pandemics, are unbiased.

Nature is magnanimous, nature is free, not bound by any religious boundaries,

Alas, so seems human ignorance that try to label the free supreme energy.

The genie

I was sure I had bottled up
The genie,
and closed the lid shut tight,
Wary of being granted my wishes,
but always with a twist,
I promised myself I shall not ask.

Oh, how foolish was I,
she escapes every night,
the astral apparition,
comes dancing riding the clouds,
moonlight streaming from her hair,
dew drops dangling from her eye lashes,
lips soft like rose petals,
fingers like a painter’s soft brush,
she caresses.

Her breath like a soft breeze,
scented celestial, sensuous,
Softly I moan and try to embrace her,
to hold her tight to my chest,
my body burning with desire.

Gently she wiggles out and coos in my ears,
how dare you bottle up your heart,
and keep me away,
As I lament
another wasted night.

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।


Friday Haikus: Two sides of the same coin

blazing scorching sun

as life flow from the warm touch

deadly heat stroke strikes

*****

gently kisses moon

burnt and barren, hidden pain

reflected love shines

*******

as cooling rain falls

life sprouts, joy, and rivers swell

devastating floods

*****

soothing ocean breeze

moisture laden clouds yonder

deadly cyclone lurks

*******

earth that nurtures all

inferno raging in core

masked appearances

*****

mysterious life

where beauty lives, evil lurks

share the love, moon does

Aaron’s Beard (or Perforate St John’s-wort)- Local Flora – Stay at home stroll – 14

This is a series about the neighborhood flowers and flowering trees that I saw and enjoyed on my walk in the neighborhood during the stay at home months.  Many of the flowers I don’t know much about and depend on Google lens to get a name.  If there are mistakes, apologize for my ignorance.

It was a misty morning yesterday when I took my dog Skooby out for a walk.  My wife accompanied me. It was a very pleasant morning, cool with a continuous drizzle that was mostly a fine mist than rain. Environment was surreal, like being transported back to a mystical land.  About a mile walk from our house is a small city park adjacent to the local elementary park.  Though the park benches are closed and cordoned off due to the corona virus preventive measures, the park itself is open to public for strolls. Whenever I take a walk that side with Skooby, I make it a point to go there for a mundane reason, the park has trash cans where one can deposit the dog poo bags and I make it a point to do that instead of carrying it with me all throughout the walk.  Imagine my surprise, as I was depositing the load and the sun came out momentarily from behind the clouds.  Right next to the trash can was this bush with the beautiful yellow flowers dazzling in the sun with leaves moistened by rain drops.  I must have seen that bush hundreds of times before but never did it look so magical.  However when I found out the name, only thought that came to my mind was that whoever had named it must be in the most inebriated state to name such a beautiful flower with someone’s beards or wort. What a calamity!  

stayathomefourteenstrool-COLLAGE-resized1

a misty morning brightened up

your mere presence filled the heart  

soothing like the moon

lighting up the night


A Rose is a rose

 

 

 

Fortnight Lily- Local Flora – Stay at home stroll – 12

This is a series about the neighborhood flowers and flowering trees that I saw and enjoyed on my walk in the neighborhood during the stay at home months.  Many of the flowers I don’t know much about and depend on Google lens to get a name.  If there are mistakes, apologize for my ignorance.

When I first saw a lily I understood why lily white symbolized purity.  But I had no idea that the flowers below, seen in many gardens in our locality were called lily.  They have white petals but with yellow and violet markings.  I have no idea how and when these natives of Africa landed in California.  The flowers do not last long but blooms every fifteen days or so, hence the name fortnight lily.   

stayathomestroll12-resize1

lily white petals

adorned with violet and yellow

like moon spots  

makes you glow


A Rose is a rose

 

 

 

The living dead

Why is this charade of living
Every moment is a struggle
A life living like a dead
Why this thirst unquenched
Relive daily the struggle to live
Is it just an illusion
A role playing
Dead playing the living
O’ you romantic
Yearning for a night
Under the starlit sky
Come share my bed
On the street
Even the full moon
Casts a dark shadow here
Hear my story and chronicle
The life of a living dead

Contradictions

A clear blue sky
Lacks definition.
Without a dark night,
For a bright day
There is no appreciation.
Without its spots
Moon won’t be as beautiful,
Road lacking few road bumps,
Journey is uneventful.
A blemish free life
There is no story to tell,
Without the past of Jean Valjean
Les Misérables won’t ring a bell.
Calm sea hides
Deep secrets in its bosom,
Vibrant nature in a moment
Wrecks havoc and destruction.
A world at peace,
Will it be boring?
Thought of violence
To appreciate peace,
It is depressing.
Even without appreciation
Rose will still bloom,
Even if no one looks
Beauty is not doomed.
A bipolar world
May be the norm,
Not an aberration.
Life is a saga
Full of contradictions.