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August Rendezvous


Wetland 5


The mountains are mysterious, also when an early August fog covers them where our puzzles are at rest, calling us to their cauldron. It is rainy season too and an urge to visit a tourist site is probable. Last Thursday, I went to Nangal Wetland Lake, near Nangal city Panjab. The migratory birds were out of season but the variedly hued waters completely enchanted me.

The Zinnia flower bed across the long pathway to the wetland had mature flowers of different varieties and hues. Besides visitors, a few cows across the fence too marked the landscape chewing on the wild grass.

A few moments along the shore and the songs of birds were audible in form of ragas, we can only hear as sound remains the medium. Later, I too reflected deeply and rejoiced the beauty I was part of.

Alone in the deep August
must have to find the spirit
secluding from the narrow pathways
to a tiny heart as a guest
just below where the sky tramp
turns saffron in the evening
a song perched too or a flight
on the winds not knowing why
a stout tree with branches
no longer than the span of an overlooking
its leaves a little fuchsia, a little tangerine
almost dropping for the chances
when must an eager climb
learn the soft spots and hard cores
like a leaf to waft away
and the passing wind chime
we move as the gentle waves
return to oneself
counting the figures on the lines
on our hands.

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Echoes, my new poetry book

Echoes published by Write India is recently released in September.  It has been an amazing experience to through them once again and truly as desired they echo through mind and soul.

Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.



A Poem from Echoes:

Cold winds with those dark clouds
on my sky are my aspirations
where horizon of blue sublime,
tiny corpuscles of lime,
from where I have sprung and this haste
do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

Moon and stars

moon again behind
the hills what
myth I build on my story


******

a star out of canvas
I am 
here with truth


*****

few stars in sky
and angles in and out 
can't locate more

******


only one more round
at moon hedge
full of jasmine