SNAPSHOT OF A SUMMER MORNING

coalescing vines,

arms in the breeze,

perforations peep

through the footfalls of

a mid-summer dawn

(© DEEPAK DARSHAK)   

AFTERNOON REVERIE

They will come back
Bringing in fresh queries, virgin curiosities,
Unresolved mysteries, unanswered enquiries,
And spread around
Like clusters of grass mellowed with dew,
Spreading around, gripping
The quiet copse and its virgin green,
Ending their wait for
A tactile presence of
Raw aspiration and hope
               
In a proximity of paradoxes,
A wrinkled old gown bound to a wheelchair
Will gradually wake up to a beatific smile,
A pair of broken specs kept in a dusty corner
Will begin to move about,
A bunch of toys kept in a decrepit shelf will
Find back the trail of frolics and gambols,  
Some eyes will have tears,
Some lips will have smiles shining in darkness,
Some voices will break in
Stretching out across generations
While narrating the stories of
Bravery and surrender,
Loyalty, betrayal and protest,
Retrieval and loss,
Victory and defeat
 
This summer,
Each brick of our old house will stay awake
Witnessing a search for the magical key
To the wild of dreams,
Connecting        
The old to the new,
Darkness to light, day to night

Between

Two banks of the sky
©DEEPAK DARSHAK

UNION

wet whispers, sultry sighs, intimate locks…  

buccaneering tides   
flow on, Drenching passionate cliffs,

quenching the restive thirst of chinks

night makes a blanket
to hide the merger of 
rivers without brinks

(© DEEPAK DARSHAK: IN THE WORLD OF INDISPENSABLE OTHERS)

FAIT ACCOMPLI

shades of gray fatigue,

shapes peeking through

dehiscent wrinkles, slants
and curves forming  

countenances of ennui…. 

lukewarm fingers

make the last-ditch effort

to complete a painting

on the rugged canvas of

an eventless day 

PROLOGUE

yearning for

sleek, sweet modifiers

made a blue-eyed bard

out of everyone   

in the feast of rhetoric

… and they battled on,

trying to surpass one another,  

eying the moments of

freedom to be with the Lord

in His secret chamber of

proximity

© DEEPAK DARSHAK    

CHANGING CLIME

Grammar of the game

Has changed

Rules for

Genuflection and

Pantomiming have

Become rather flexible

The clime of adjustment

Grows new ears for

The mock heroics of

Sterilized pragmatism

© DEEPAK DARSHAK

ICARUS

Your tragedy

Does not sadden me,

It amuses

Because I feel

You must have survived

After losing your wings

And falling into the sea

Icarus!     

I feel your presence,

Everywhere,    

A pride too big

To be subdued, 

A faith too confident

To be challenged, 

Waiting to be

Melted away and sunk by

The enemy within…

Your deadly hubris!   

(© DEEPAK DARSHAK)

CONFINEMENT

From one corner of

His room to another,

He has been moving for

Years, searching for a

Wardrobe to lock his wounds

And blunt them forever

He’s forgotten

To feel surprised

When he comes across

A squirrel

Jumping out of

The bush into

His solitude,

He’s forgotten

To feel enchanted

When he sees

A nightingale

Perching and singing

In the tree facing

His room’s lone window

Only when

He falls asleep,

He feels something

Happening in his mind,

His old pals, their loitering

Limericks, escapades, stories of  

Jagan the boatman , an old canoe

Calling him for

A stroll on the waves

Under the Moon

He weaved

His stories gently into songs,

A minstrel’s transparent

Voice rising in the arms of

The gentle breeze, spreading across

The dark vales of the night,

Leaving the world

Spellbound

Sleeping souls woke up, 

And we could see

The stars smiling though

Ruffles in black waters 

Beyond that, there is

Nothing he thinks

He should remember