In silence they came

In silence they came,

Slowly,

One by one,

Trickling in,but 

In a steady stream,

Then the dam burst,

And they rushed in;

A torrent, a deluge,

How to make sense,

Of everything jumbled up.

Nudged me gently,

And then dragged me

From my slumber;

Swiftly I drew,

As my fingers flew,

From the madness emerged

An illusion

An apparition,

A celestial dance; 

Music unspoken

Lulled me,

As I dozed,

And surrenderered to her arms;

Silently they left,

One by one;

She slipped away,

Leaving me with a memory

Etched in my heart.

Now where shall I find

The words,

To paint my masterpiece,

She still dancing

In my mind,

My muse eternal.

Ethereal Enchantress

This poem was first written in Assamese (Axomiya, my mother tongue) and I translated it to English today. The original poem is attached below the English version.

Ethereal Enchantress

 

Oh my ethereal muse,

Your shadow dances across

the mirror of my imagination.

Crossing the boundary of dreams, Continue reading “Ethereal Enchantress”

Searching for my muse

Deprived of my wings at birth,
May be the angels
were afraid, that
like Ikerus,
I shall attempt
to touch the sun,
and get burnt.

 
But I bargained
to set my
mind free,
soared high
and gained the
whole universe,
Imagination unbridled.

 
From unseen depths
of the ocean,
To places even
gods fear to tread,
I roam,
in search of
my elusive muse.

 
Alas, it’s a journey futile,
Travelogue continues,
Search goes on,
Certain that
once destination arrived,
the reward of discovery
shall silence my mind.


Featured image by Sabine Sauermaul from Pixabay.

Am I wrong to love my muse?

This poem started as a comment to this question posed by one of the most talented poet (thelonelyauthorblog ) I have  the good fortune to interact with.  Thank you Drew. The title of the poem and the first line is the question and the poem was my spontaneous response. I was not thinking of posting it as a stand alone poem till today morning when Drew asked me if I have posted this.  Hence posted without edit. 

Am I wrong to love my muse?”
If yes
Then may be
God was wrong
To let love flow
Because it’s beyond
Us mortals
Not to fall
In love
And suffer
The pain
That opens
The floodgate
Of passion
And every drop
That bleeds
Adorns the pages
And the clouds
Carry the silent cries
To my muse

Perspective

This poem started as a comment to a poem EXCLUDED by poet Marta Pombo Sallés( momentsbloc ).

Words tell a story beautiful,
Vivid and lyrical.
As the pictures roll,
Observant to the minute details
Not a part of the story to tell,
Anguished, the poet wails.
Desire to embrace,
But fearful of being absorbed,
Apprehensive of losing self.
A tune off scale rattles,
As the muse ponders
Irony of the observer.
To be included
And lose perspective,
Or left alone,
A path lonely
To be traversed.
Excluded.

सिफ़र.

Everything and Nothing. And then some words.

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