Forcing a Poem

 I am quite a poet,

Often in solitude.

Words spill into paper with less effort,

When only I am to intrude

Into my mind of delusionary situations,

Trying to pick synonyms with rhyming combinations…

But how seldom is a poem forced upon you?

What to write when it’s Thursday due?

It has to succumb to the word limit,

It has to make sense by the time you finish;

A piece of art the entire class will applaud and cherish!

No plagiarism—a unique verse, just as unique as each one of us.

Then why care to think what THEY'LL conclude?

Why force meaning into your handmade delude?

Why force rhyme into your free verse?

When in reality, every poem is driven, but by a hidden force…

                                                             ~ Kripa Sarkar 

Free Breeze

Not yet winter

Doesn't feel like summer

Smells like a season of free breeze...

                  
I see the leaves ascending
From the rays of sunlight,
Can I stop the day here, please?

Some are brown, yet some orange,
Crisp and dry, fallen leaves…
Autumn or fall, just perfect 
For a stroll, cushions my life with ease…

Neither yours' nor mine,
Let’s save words for yet another time,
Now, stand and inhale the free breeze…
                                                             ~ Kripa Sarkar    

Listen, love…

 There is so much to tell,

I wish you would listen.

You don’t know my name yet, so,

If, I may, with your permission,

Introduce myself ~

I am the eyes that stares at you,

when you don’t bother to notice me…

I am the dreamer who shells you,

Into my woven fantasy…

I am the voice (who) that calls your name,

I doubt you can hear me…

I am the soul that merely wishes,

You, to be near me…

But— 

how can I own you, when you were

Never mine?

Why crown you in my heart, when you were

The king, and me? A commoner, perhaps…

I can tell you more,

Only if you wish to listen, love…

I shall stay quiet as always,

Otherwise.

                                                  ~Kripa Sarkar 

Her Room

She carried the miniature of the Himalayas,

Spoke the Tibetan flags suspended from the door,

Which opened into a room of PASSION indeed-

A floral sheet carelessly spread over the bed,

An embroidered rug resting on the floor...

She cared for art, whispered the patterns & decoratives,

 Four planters placed at the corner of a book-shelf

Were bushier than you could ever imagine it is!

A white-board scribbled with a "to-do-list",

Exclaimed how organized she is,

And upon turning left, there, beside the closet, a wall,

That holds a ukulele, a keyboard on a stand in front,

Followed by a two-bulbed stand lamp, so tall!

Oh you dare miss the wide window, the heart of the room,

For what she can see through the glass door, is what best described her:

The greens of trees and grass, the vast expanse all blue...

                                                                                       ~ Kripa Sarkar

( This was my first assignment @ FHS in AP english)

To The Sun

 To the Sun that will rise today,

I pray," I want to rise with you!"

You are beginning a new day,

It shall be my beginning too...

To the Sun that will rise today,

I say, " Turn the sky pink and blue!"

You bring death to the darkest of nights,

Bring light into every flower and dew...

To the Sun that is rising today,

I pay my respect to you,

The courage that you bring

Into earth, into earth-beings,

Is more that what

 We can ever do for you!

The Sun that is rising will rise alright,

You are the coal who has to transform,

Ignite!

Wave good-bye to the quiet night,

Step into the sunny day,

Be the light!

To the Sun that will rise today,

I pray, " Rise again tomorrow,

When the sacred night is far away,

I will be waiting for you,

Present me your courage to borrow!"

For before night, it's day...

                                                             ~ Kripa Sarkar

The Pond and the rest

 Uneven round

Stink of green algae

Silence, warm breath

As I sit on the flower bed

Which pours beside the pond

Far from the rest

 

Croak of that slimy green

Crickets sing, hidden, unseen

Wet mud underneath

Creamy moon and breeze

Making life, enough to freeze…

Far from the rest, far in the east…

 

The pond of delight

A vagrant’s retreat

Who comes to life

Like an autumn leaf

To fall on the water

Stagnant and green

A treasure serene

 

Far from the rest,

A pond so much mine

As less I am of myself!

                                                           ~ Kripa Sarkar

 

Black Rose

 The black rose stood lousily,

 Hidden in a dump yard, like junk,

Bearing the fragrance of heaven,

It blossomed as much as it could,

Displaying the pattern of THE ARTIST,

You know, the who is found in the mist...

With the texture of wet cotton,

Followed by infinite thorn steps,

It lay there lousily, hidden...

I wonder why it was forgotten?

I wonder why it was a black rose?

                                                         ~ Kripa Sarkar

The Grief Poem

 I must not talk of grief, or should I?

For most know how it feels,

And very less have its lack!

Is this how life deals?

It holds me when I care less and love more,

It holds me when I want the horizon but,

Have not a thing to leave the shore,

I must not talk of grief, or should I?

I'll only speak if you'd like to hear more!

When the others say I know not,

When I seem to be a part of the helpless lot,

When I choose right over my heart,

It holds me when I am just about to start!

I must not talk of grief, or should I?

To bear the emptiness deep inside,

You, my friend, do not need to hide,

Grief, in life, will away stride,

Past the pages, turning to the next!

I must talk of grief, oh yes I must!

Grief is the cause the we're alive,

Yes! You and me, and everybody,

It gives us a gift- hope,

Neatly wrapped in an envelope!

I talk of grief, and I will very much!

I wake up very morning to let go it...

When the first bell of the day rings,

 Hoping  it to be the envelope, I still have a choice,

I ask myself, " I must not talk of grief, or should I?" 

                                                             ~Kripa Sarkar

Love has it all

Why measure my love with the grief,

In my tears running down my cheeks?

There’s a lot left unknown,

That I have treasured within for years,

 

What meaning do we make, you and I?

When love has it all, all of it…

 

Why run out of words, when there is,

So much to say that a life-time won’t suffice?

Why cry as you disappear into thin air,

Life is destined for all that way, not otherwise!

Why not embrace life from a distance,

As we see days passing by?

 

What meaning do we make, you and I?

When love has it all, all of it…

 

Why reach the stars when heaven,

Is in the joy of a moment?

Only glance at the moon, before you know,

Life? It’s done, mate.

 

What meaning do we make, you and I?

When love has it all, all of it…

 

How am I to show my hearts ache?

How do I say it? Tell me, for love’s sake,

For I am in love with the merry gold in my garden,

With the sky that’s vast and blue,

With the melody of the rustling branches,

With my life, as real as true,

With the smile on every face,

That is as holy and as lovely as you!

 

Why? Am I not audible?

I am crying as loud as the silence of the night!

You may choose not to believe me,

But there is love, and love is more,

When the sky is dark outside

 

What meaning do we make, you and I?

When love has it all, all of it?

If love it is, then love be it!

                                                                                  ~ KS

Maa, you are 39!

This Poem is dedicated to my Mother! 

Feb 8th, 2022

  Maa, you have turned 39,

YOU are entirely mine,

With you by my side,

Life is better than  perfectly fine😘 

It's time for you to shine,

For you are 39... 

Imagine yourself holding g a glass of Red wine,

Joyful, We are together, 

Overwhelmed to watch you smile😍

For you are now my sweet mama of 39! 

How life passes by,

Unnoticed, quite mysteriously,

Leaving us with the memories,

That we forever cherish,

Yet, you shall always have me alongside,

I am your Noni, your darling, your pride ❤ 

Behold as life unfolds,

Not you know, not I

What the awe-strucking life upholds!

All I know is I love you,

More than you can imagine I do!

You are the youngest one I've ever met,

Young at heart, and health, young every bit... 

There on the sandy beach,

Where we are beyond the world's reach,

My head rests on your lap,

Carefree as ever, you smile at me,

Happily I lay,

To thank one up there I pray,

Thanking him for his gift,

For it is him in disguise,

As mother mine,

And today she turned 39!

Happy birthday Maa

Forever yours 

Noni

What's in your name?

 In the life that brings a storm of emotions

Where there are unjustifiable and unfair situations

Ignoring at all, you give me the strength

To conclude my day with your holy name!

What's in your name?

No matter in the hurdles of life

Overcome or toppled we lay

What difference does it make?

A nil, at the thought of you name!

What's in your name?

You are the blossom of the spring

You are the fall that time will bring

You are the sigh of relief

You are the rescuer of all grief

You are the path, and you are your name

You are it all, within a grain!

What's in your name?

I am merely a sinner, indeed,

 Blessed with your desperate need, 

An orphan, on your name I shall feed,

Forever I shall sing, your glory, oh king!

For you are eternity, I am a blink!

                                                                                          ~KS

 

Who Live?

 

In the edge of the night

When the heat stops its fight,

Where mere words aren’t enough,

When eyes sing the song of love

 

Have the courage to look above,

Find that star, my dove!

Run free on the sandy floor by the beach,

The sky is not far from your reach!

 

Closely listen to

The howl of the passing waves

Who are they explaining to?

The summary of our days

 

That we all get to live,

And the ones who spend it,

To give,

Are rewarded with the smile of the receiver,

Which they yet don’t intend to see,

Nevertheless make it their meaning to live!

                                                                                      ~ Kripa Sarkar

  

 

SHE WHO SMILED

 Rustling branches, falling yellow leaves,

A road caked with brown crisps,

Dry air, distressed breeze

 

Lips capable of uttering,

Only complains,

‘ Why live? Why die?

Complete nuisance life is!’

 

Life on ‘ Elims’, the village,

Was as dead as one could be,

Lost was every mind,

Shattered very deep

 

With drought and famine,

Greeting each year to come,

Man had no hope,

Life being a misery, a glum

 

One night, thunder struck,

They all felt joy, but feared too,

An eternity it had been,

That they lived a life in monsoon

 

Dissatisfied, as ever,

Retired every soul,

Unsure of what,

 The heavenly waters would unfurl

 

In the belief of the many,

There was a doubt of worry,

Rain they craved, but Oh!

Chaotic minds!

Conclusions were made in a hurry

 

The so called wise men said,

‘ No one knows what the drops would bring,

Future is unpredictable, the inevitable is arousing’

 

Change, all feared,

And now they feared it more,

So many years had passed by,

Clouds had, yet, become a rare sight!

 

Inside the hut of a hunter-man,

With meagre hopes, stared he at his wife,

She cried in pain, accompanying the grumble,

Grumble that precedes the rain

 

For her belly was protruding out,

As she yelled for mercy in pain,

The beginning of new life,

Soon to begin!

 

As the downpour of crystal clear water,

Showered upon the earth of ‘ Elims’,

The villagers gathered in a chatter,

Outside the hut of mud, their hopes grim

 

Seconds rushed into minutes,

And minutes into hours,

Unnoticed were left, the heavenly showers

All eyes glanced beside the hunter lady’s bed

Where now a newborn lay!

 

What she did, surprised all,

Quiet unsure they were,

To what it was, after all!

 

She widened her lips into a “O”,

It showed her red gums,

Dimples on both sides of her cheeks,

‘ She smiled,’ a wise man claimed!

 

No one knew what it was,

But liked it, anyway,

So they mimicked her,

Doing what they never did

Or putting it the other way,

What they forgot the village meant,

When spelt the other way round!

 

“ She smiled,” the village chorused,

So they all smiled, and the wise men now,

Named her ‘ Elims,’ girl of the village!

You dare not spell it the other way round!

 

Life continued on Elims,

Monotonous as it always was,

Soon all forgot what they did the night,

‘ Elims,’ the girl of the village, was born…

If you ever happen to visit this place,

Don’t forget to ask who “ Elims” is,

For you are sure to get an answer,

‘ Elims is she who smiled!’

The irony being, no one would know what it actually meant!

                                                                                   ~ KS

                                                 

Dusk by the Lake

 Rays of endless warmth,

Shoot from behind the clouds,

Playing hide and seek in the sky,

As dusk arrives by the lake...

Flocks of birds fly home,

Their claws all stretched,

Their dreamy feathers spread,

As dusk arrives by the lake...

The stray dogs howl in joy,

 Bidding the melting day a cry of goodbye,

Sitting straight with their ears alert,

As dusk arrives by the lake...

The petals decide 'It's done for the day',

Soon they droop away,

Leaves and branches close their eyes,

Roots stop their underground chase,

As dusk arrives by the lake...

Now the water turns a deep orange,

Unlike a scenery in the art gallery,

It speaks a language ' Strange',

Ah! it turns green again, 

Although without any flattery,

As dusk arrives by the lake...

I simply stare at the ascending moon,

A creamy white, to my eyes a boon,

Silently it steals my soul away,

I wait for life, as it drives,

For I would only love to live, 

To be a witness of the arrival of,

Dusk by the lake...

                                                                                         ~ Kripa Sarkar

My conversation with myself!

 Life passes by. Time flies away...

No matter what I do, no matter what you do, the cycle of never-ending happenings continue, and will continue forever! What meaning each one us make out of life is unique. Just as I can only live as myself and never be you, or anyone else for that matter, life tends to unfold differently for each one of us. I am a nobody, that is the truth. And I shall remain a nobody, doesn't bother if I become the world's richest person, or if I get an honorable award, or I simply live just as an ordinary, or if I become a famous athlete... what is real will remain the same. What is real is something so blurred out of our vision today, that we believe it is nothing at all. Trying to get appreciation from the world and living a luxurious life seems to be the motive of life itself. It is not so!

It is the truth! It is real! I know not what it is. And, probably I may always be in loss of words to express what it actually is! But that is the very reason of my existence. How bewildering, knowing not what it is, yet living to know it, because I'm just aware that knowing it is the real essence of life.

I may sound like a lunatic, but if penning down all my thoughts the way are, makes me a lunatic, be it so. If deciding to live my life for knowing the truth I am unaware of, makes me unusual and unsuccessful in the eyes of the society, be it so! I have no right to change another's perspective, we are all born with one! Yet the same applies to others. I have a perspective, and it is my choice if I want to alter it, whenever required. The fact is, there is so much more going on in my mind, that it is impossible to make a note of all of it! 

I wish to find a place of peace, far away from the world, far away from the ones who care for me, because eventually, their love and care becomes attachment, which limits me to do what I ought to do, if I am to live the life I wish to live.

I am telling this with experience, I find joy in solitude. Being with myself gives me a joy of freedom, and I know I'm not being watched upon! At least not watched upon by a human; what it is with God, I can't help it, he shall always be glancing upon me. In fact, that is all I wish for. Life would be heaven if I were in solitude, staring at the Omnipresent, my eyes- open or close, only capable of witnessing him, only him! He in return, would shower the bliss of his presence on me, for that shall be more than enough!

No, nothing can ever be enough! It is a continuous process. Anyways, if life would be only this much as explained above, I would be the happiest creature in this multiverse. 

But how? That is a big question. Many of the great souls who have realized the true meaning of life have renounced all their possessions, and lived a life of a saint, meditated for years, reaching a state of self-realization, from where there is never a coming back! I've not reached there, but from what I've read, once you are elevated to that state of mind, you stay there forever. 

What lays beyond, I'm unaware of that! Be it beyond my life, or be it the beyond of my future in this life. What I am aware of is my desire. I know the universe is with me. Because only then do I occasionally come across the books of such saints, whose lives inspire me; gives me a sense of truth in my thought. It validates my desire. Gives me a meaning to live. Nothing else convinces me that I must be alive. The only reason why I am alive today, is because the Universe wants me to. It is slowly guiding me to the direction, which will open my eyes, take off the blur of this material world!

Every breath we inhale, we inhale life. Alike to that, every step I take, the nature guides me, becoming my teacher for life. I have questions. Tons and tons of questions. They shall be answered! I know they shall be answered! The moment for which I await will be answers to all my questions. It is my intuition that says, ' All your questions would stand meaningless when the light of the divine falls on you,' I know that it is true, completely! When the Mahadev will embrace me, with his divinity and love, I shall dive in the ocean of bliss and stay there forever!

Who am I after all! What is it that I can be? What is my truth? I must find it. The journey begins, the journey had probably begun millions of years earlier when I was in some other body, but the soul remains unchanged. I thank Shiva, for blessing me with this quest to know my real self. For not a leaf shall move, nor a life shall be, without the will of Thee!!!