Tag Archive: #PLUR


talkin’ heartbreak blues

Artwork from Google





talkin’ heartbreak blues …





jingling and a-jangling between insipid day and fungal night, rumbling from those spirituals of yore, in a time way yonder back before, you pirouetted into my days and my nights, when pain was felt, though never this deep, this raw, that rotten gnaw deep in my core, compelling me to scribble this scribble, as i hyperventilate and as my broken mouth begins to dribble, these sentences, these words, these empty noises, barren drums, calling out, since you left, rendering me mutely bereft, just words, barren drums calling out to you, wherever you are and whoever you are today, now …




Artwork from Google

Artwork from Google



Pandit-Ji* – A Poem for Jawaharlal Nehru.

(November 14th 1889 – May 27th 1964)




 


1.


The moon cast an enveloping shadow over the teeming multitudes,

as they made their tryst with destiny**,

with you as the bearer of the light,

and at the stroke of the midnight hour,

you emerged an icon, from the long and desolate night.


Long years had passed,


since those humid evenings spent,


languishing in jail,

yet your mind remained unshackled,

putting words on paper in the dim candlelight,

as the gaudy glare of empire began to pale.



2.


Today,

you live,

within us,


though not amongst us,

and,

your discovery***,

your glimpses***,

smoulder within me,

your immortal words,

my compass.



I am now,

the soul of nations,

once suppressed,

that have,

found utterance**.


I am now,

me.


I am now,


finally,


free …


 




* – ‘Pandit-Ji’ was the name that Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of independent India, was respectfully called.

** – excerpts from Jawaharlal Nehru’s “Tryst with Destiny” speech on 15th August 1947.

*** – two of the few books written by Nehru – “Glimpses of World History” and “The Discovery of India



Quote from Google

dreams fade

Artwork from Google




dreams fade …



dreams fade,


eventually slithering

into

pale fogginess.



years recycle years,


grinding down shellshocked lives.


merely more raw

fodder for the beast.



oh but not hope!

hope persists.


hope scalds mercilessly,

jabbing at

the

core.


hope twists knives,


a

teasing

constant

ache.


hope!


the very ache

that

assures me,



that,


i


am


alive …



Artwork from Google

%d bloggers like this: