FERTILITY

On the surface of

Silence,

Words   wake up

And grow like

Plants,

The farm

Left fallow

Retrieves its green song,

The well dried up for years

 Swells with water,

The go of life

It seems

Has found a new rhythm

To go on

© DEEPAK NIKUNJ

INTERDISCIPLINARY REMEDY

To iron out

Certain differences,

A friend suggests,

I should take an

Interdisciplinary route,

Annealing or sublimation

Can be resorted to

If the gangue has to be

Removed from

The communicative ore

To make my pidgin

Rather tolerable

To the congenital bête noirs

Sans compulsive

Genuflections

© DEEPAK NIKUNJ

LEGEND

The sun going down,

Greatness sweating

To a new noun,

All eyes of

A tiny coastal town

Glued to the proceedings

In the middle,

In the eager pavilion,

A willow waits

And white gloves on,

Records get tumbling

One after the other,

Non-striking end

Gets reduced to

The prince’s running pawn,

Thus was an epic journey

Converted into the finest song

That the game of

Willow and ball

Ever heard on the chest of

Its turning wicket

© DEEPAK NIKUNJ

A SECOND OPINION

The element of

Festive oomph

Seems hidden

Behind a veil of

Inhibition,

Gestures need

Proper planning

Before  

Reaching the ramp

© DEEPAK NIKUNJ

PARTITIONED PERCEPTIONS

A bunch of adolescents,

Feared drowned

In the dark waters of

The river,

Have been seen

Working at wheat farms

And 

Carpet factories

In some other states,

Mothers are happy to learn

They are alive,

Fathers are happy to learn

They are earning,

Siblings are happy to learn

They will come back

Some day

With new languages,

New adventure stories and

New clothes

To replace their tattered ones

© DEEPAK NIKUNJ

pt'>© DEEPAK NIKUNJ

SEE-THROUGH IMPERSONATION

From one face,

She could easily

Walk into another

Keeping viewers

At sea,

But last time

When she was seen,

She had put on

A floral camouflage

Hiding herself completely

Behind it,

I smiled because

I was still able to notice

Where the eyes were

That read me 

Through my scribbles

And 

Where the heart was

That weaved 

Her own

© DEEPAK NIKUNJ