( while taking a tour through those poems readers are requested to keep in their hands, a feather from the pea-cock's tail )
Volga - 1
there might have been some provocation
on the part of the rat's bible
it is not known when and how
every piece of sleep that spatters
from the oesophagus of the dip-swimming
has stick to the c-sharp
of the newly-purchased tooth-brush
the air within the wish-bicycle
figures nothing less
how much is it necessary now
to murder the blue-hue with the study
that can be saved by the depression of the Ganges-basin
to develop the snap-shot of the garland-exchange with the
antiseptic cream
would you think it for some moments
my lord
the lord of the market
before sending any secret e-mail
to the cyclone
residing in the room
behind the stair-case
let the Volga be read once more
with all its clothes
and hair-styles
Volga - 2
the winter of the water-canon
oxidised by the fireflies
wants to touch every bamboo-flute
of this soil, it seems
as if it plays
in the body of every cauliflower
the total memorising-skill
of the blue and yellow pyramid
and if some lines of changes
in the planet be added
the birth-day of the bolster
that goes to the sea
may learn with a lesser effort
the pollen-efficiency of the nail-marked walls
how much should I scold the squirrels
who don't want to swim
in the still-water of the black-board
Volga – 3
the green-circuit of the fried-almonds
that was submerged
in the open-hair of the afternoon
the whole-night workshop
has taught
the thumb-impression is to be put
how far below it
if the autobiographies are planted
into the drawer of nature
the solubility of the river-reed
gets it done too late at night
all the plus-signs around
from their etiquettes
come down
so many foot-notes
caused by the season-changes
so before planting life
to the address of the wall-lamps
it seems the cotton-flower
written by the oceans
began yawning
Volga – 4
to the homoeopathy phial
standing on the traffic-island
why it appears
within her womb
the number of germinated nights
stolen without a kiss
is too little
is then it true
if all the chanting of Harinam
can't be withdrawn from the alcohol
the body-odour of the running tamarisk-shrub
will enter into the circuit-house
and that devouring of the parchment
brings to the feelings of the non-veg ant-hills
the let's-go-cure
gathering in the sauce-island
Volga - 5
coming to this ironed canal-side
every auto-rickshaw
wants to know and let other know
the mystery
behind the rice-rain
from the cirrus
the shame in the eyes of the seal containing signs
supplies the whole-sale dealership
of the civil disobedience movement
to the locality
the role of the hammer also
wakes up early in the morning
to put under its own tongue
an antacid
is it possible that the spits
used in the observatory
be made a little more fast-moving
manuscript of the basement of a well
the biography of the pond-heron will be scripted
even-then the productivity of the merry-go-round
wouldn't be uttered for a moment
no sir, such has never been expected
in the liquefied banana-blossoms
too many hot breads resulted from the season-change
continues to bat vehemently
and climbs to the peak of heart-throbbing runs
they in a group will go to the
aqua anetha of the mole hill
to organise a folk-song
to understand this
no arbitration of the cactus is required
notwithstanding
it is heard that the thread was pulled
by the violin of the wife of the moon-god
from behind the screen
here in the eye-front
is the basement of the morning-well
on its one page lies the faulty crow-caws
and on another some sun-shines
swinging on the hanger
after some pages in recurring ...the chicken-pox ... the boot-polish ...
within the two covers of the dance-drama
also comes the creepers and herbs
grown around the melting point
of the arm-chair
whose legs are broken
if each pore on the skin of the river-lily
becomes so much known
then in the background of this low land
let us have one game more
a poem regarding evil-company
thus do learn to tolerate the blow of wings
of the most inflammable flesh
after the successful sacrifice of the student-hostel
jumping into the peacock-foams
how dangerously is changing the total travel-route of the nail-polish
in the high tide of the coconut-kernel
that conquers the world
today the water-pigeon gets pain
only by the flute made of palm-leaf
can't be written the pleasure-trip in boat
of the injured-knee night-queen that is deposited heavily
on the collar of the village-moonlight
even-then the gramophone would be playing on
even-then the courageous pheasant would proceed further
to throw towards the squirrel a dinner-sleep
then all the daughters in disguise of birds certainly
may come out from within the salted mosquito-net
burning open-ground in their eyes
even after
the small boats of the fig leaves
would slip from the chorus song
of the roses
then they are to be pulled forward to the river-bed
of the late afternoon
to make them understand again
that such Xerox-centre which can ignore its metallic-birth
does not grow even now on either side of this muddy road
so look at to see how the epenthesis
of the screwpine-leaf withdraws her beak from the old dome
and pours
all new mathematics
into the compact-disc stitched with the back of the sea-tortoise
if that's not real
how in the left and right
such evil-company of the oxygen would creep
if the next part of this commentary
resumes from the umbilicus cavity of the x-mass
would the blood-sugar of the water-plankton be rising continuously
look there again
the feather of colour that is in her adolescence
touches the cold magnet of her gamut
to disperse the cherry orchards
now if the doors of this brown triangle be got open
you can see on the screen one by one
the projection of the apex-points of the red-palash
and in the night-texture of the kathakali-kathak
they are supplying continuously
small sun-shines in poly-packs
the bowstring that passes through the centre
is the tendency of the reddish sunshine
to become drenched some more
let us hear
what the milky-way seamed by pins
says
and it's you
how much can you be able to read
the venation of the Barringtonia acutangula
can you touch the season of making apples
in the aquarium
the empty bottles without any co-ordinate
that shoulder with endless grief
the hands of the wall-clocks
in a sudden depression
they're also making crowd
at the beauty parlour
you have promised someday
to present a flower-vase to display some drops of blood
in the circled face
do you remember it
you haven't floated that turnip
till now
here the month of trumpet-flower
covers everything
with reedy grass
with the festival of colours of the white horses
the new leaves of bananas become associated
the total dipavali rows
along the evening-balcony
taking it as daylight
will any bird fly towards it
then send a walkman
for the bamboo plants
you must go today
in search of the source
of the hand-woven lamp-post
from the pitcher-worship to the kantha-stitch
it is a very large
twelve-horned deer
the mango-marrow
demands more land
demands more kingfisher
the breath of the Ravenala
touches the chicks of the black-pepper
in every evening
the flood that tears the button
touches the bowstring
that passes through the centre of magnolia
soap-song
if the sinking-of-boat ...ice-cream by name
be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood ... by name roll no 31
then would the wings of the comics
cease to exist
what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling
from the stomach of the moon
what writes the pus and blood
what writes the fuming-hot rice
the creepers and the herbs grow continuously
in the insomniac bath-tub
the sounds of the horse-hoof floated by the river
used to change the velocity of its clothes
both in the morning and evening
the birds from the cornice go to school
by dip-swimming
it may come one day when the fishes
become very angry and in the tale of the sweet-meat
the potter will destroy the jointly-built bee-hive
then all hurricane would be habituated to dinner
sans saliva
then there would be no such morning-walk
in the body of the trees
from which such a bore could be found out
through which an elderly saral may fly
into the blue translation of a squirrel
the magnetic field of the orange-pulp
and the productivity of the open window
reside in the same locality
if their frequency be touched
then the the antenna of the mermaids
speared with sleeping-oil
may be injured
by burnings their eyes
the crow-birds knocks at
in the soap-foams
produced by the afternoon
the pond with a jumping deer
wants to make bite
it is not known by this way
when a white hyphen
sticks to the palate of the shirt
now put off all the whispers
and let it be talked on the will-paper of the bees
why the pages from the honourable ash-trays
be excluded
those bunch of waters
that come out from the churning of the anises
and the jumps born of their semen
also make friends with the group-photos
now let this other night sends its best wishes
to the future candles
through a cell-phone
line of rains
1
from the utterance of the clouds I can understand now
there is no particular season which may be called as rainy
in any time those weak-days may be drenched
the water-mark of the candles may exist after the sun rises
now whether it was a wrong way or a wrong going
that debate is still on
2
you put the age over my shoulders
but I can't roar so much why
my anger is then no more a child
if the yellow colour means the disappearance of whiteness
from the locked-teeth then the bird will fly
with its beaks getting experienced
when all one around here
wants to be the seed of the intellectual grass
how much relevant is such a mute lamp-post
3
the morning of the clouds awakes
touching the line of rains
another giant night keeps waiting
in the darkness of the other
that delta rises in the secret water of the river
where with the songs of the birds
the hot coffee acquires the lips
the hands are as if like very known creepers
the tree is in search for a brown body
to which if a marriage could be organised
the thought of the disturbed walls also disappears
4
I am sitting here in this shadow-hell
unfurling a paper on the strong storm
before night comes keep your face up
from the silky letter
and let me see you
I would not go to that fabrics again
of late I have turned into stone by heavy rain-fall
now heat is required in equal measure
for which I shall have to become loser in every game
afterwards with my dusts
this paper will fly away
you recreate me with a new fever
the precipitation relating to slaughter-land
the season-change of the vagrant pole-star easily picks up a sip
from the list of ducks of the night-watchers
standing on the bye-lane of the horse-race ... by the weight of the confession made
by the spelling-mistakes of a moonlit night to the lotus-leaves ... the amputated
tongues of the night-bulbs gradually rolls down to the banyan-pods of the side-characters
the sharp archer of the star-apple moves away some furlongs from the usual
word-stairs and swallowed a whole grammar with fumes by spoon
thus with the number of velocity-poems that the punjabi with boutique prints
can produce... or will produce ... gluttonous flower-vase of the magic-painter
can make cool the slaughter-ground ... spread to the horizons of the krishnachura
that is deviated from its own track
high-yielding verses
when this endless anchal of dhanekhali sari
continues to make dip-swimming
in the bottomless water of the paddy
and if into the colour of her fore-finger
enters repeatedly some whole-noons of the chot-boshekh
and from the more depth of the ceiling-fan
comes out the ordour of the open-hair of the village-orange
then with that lac-saliva wouldn't an easy pandel
be constructed on the roof
its water will be made begin as well
that white cloud ... that life of this concrete ...
beforehand to it ... with a garland of flowers of the sun-plant
around her neck... let her be seated on this branch of peepul branch... for once
taking the warmth of the kites flown after having a thread-cut
let the cows of man be productive by a few inch more
spraying red-rose
to print herself the headache of the magnolia
sometimes spreads up to the legs of the ripe mangos
in the water that creeps up to the horizon
the magic-deer of panchbati is sailing solo
under the neon-sun the groundnuts learn
the vow-tale of the deep lipstick
if in the centre of the mango-pith ... standing on the hanging-balcony
there is a flower of guava ... then ...while walking along her sweet grievances
some day that handmade fan must be traced... to make the clouds that are swept in by storm more literate ... the time to dip the painting brush
in the colour of whose recommendations is still........
it happens... from the desire to get printed
the magic-deer... before reaching to any literacy-centre ...
some dusts gather on her body...some part is eaten by the ants...
although there should have been some arrangements
to spray the red-rose regularly
and next ... the winter comes
the hands want to be stolen
under the blue scarf
Poetry by murari sinha
Read 435 times
Written on 2010-04-30 at 18:54
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Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
high-yielding verses
Volga - 1
there might have been some provocation
on the part of the rat's bible
it is not known when and how
every piece of sleep that spatters
from the oesophagus of the dip-swimming
has stick to the c-sharp
of the newly-purchased tooth-brush
the air within the wish-bicycle
figures nothing less
how much is it necessary now
to murder the blue-hue with the study
that can be saved by the depression of the Ganges-basin
to develop the snap-shot of the garland-exchange with the
antiseptic cream
would you think it for some moments
my lord
the lord of the market
before sending any secret e-mail
to the cyclone
residing in the room
behind the stair-case
let the Volga be read once more
with all its clothes
and hair-styles
Volga - 2
the winter of the water-canon
oxidised by the fireflies
wants to touch every bamboo-flute
of this soil, it seems
as if it plays
in the body of every cauliflower
the total memorising-skill
of the blue and yellow pyramid
and if some lines of changes
in the planet be added
the birth-day of the bolster
that goes to the sea
may learn with a lesser effort
the pollen-efficiency of the nail-marked walls
how much should I scold the squirrels
who don't want to swim
in the still-water of the black-board
Volga – 3
the green-circuit of the fried-almonds
that was submerged
in the open-hair of the afternoon
the whole-night workshop
has taught
the thumb-impression is to be put
how far below it
if the autobiographies are planted
into the drawer of nature
the solubility of the river-reed
gets it done too late at night
all the plus-signs around
from their etiquettes
come down
so many foot-notes
caused by the season-changes
so before planting life
to the address of the wall-lamps
it seems the cotton-flower
written by the oceans
began yawning
Volga – 4
to the homoeopathy phial
standing on the traffic-island
why it appears
within her womb
the number of germinated nights
stolen without a kiss
is too little
is then it true
if all the chanting of Harinam
can't be withdrawn from the alcohol
the body-odour of the running tamarisk-shrub
will enter into the circuit-house
and that devouring of the parchment
brings to the feelings of the non-veg ant-hills
the let's-go-cure
gathering in the sauce-island
Volga - 5
coming to this ironed canal-side
every auto-rickshaw
wants to know and let other know
the mystery
behind the rice-rain
from the cirrus
the shame in the eyes of the seal containing signs
supplies the whole-sale dealership
of the civil disobedience movement
to the locality
the role of the hammer also
wakes up early in the morning
to put under its own tongue
an antacid
is it possible that the spits
used in the observatory
be made a little more fast-moving
manuscript of the basement of a well
the biography of the pond-heron will be scripted
even-then the productivity of the merry-go-round
wouldn't be uttered for a moment
no sir, such has never been expected
in the liquefied banana-blossoms
too many hot breads resulted from the season-change
continues to bat vehemently
and climbs to the peak of heart-throbbing runs
they in a group will go to the
aqua anetha of the mole hill
to organise a folk-song
to understand this
no arbitration of the cactus is required
notwithstanding
it is heard that the thread was pulled
by the violin of the wife of the moon-god
from behind the screen
here in the eye-front
is the basement of the morning-well
on its one page lies the faulty crow-caws
and on another some sun-shines
swinging on the hanger
after some pages in recurring ...the chicken-pox ... the boot-polish ...
within the two covers of the dance-drama
also comes the creepers and herbs
grown around the melting point
of the arm-chair
whose legs are broken
if each pore on the skin of the river-lily
becomes so much known
then in the background of this low land
let us have one game more
a poem regarding evil-company
thus do learn to tolerate the blow of wings
of the most inflammable flesh
after the successful sacrifice of the student-hostel
jumping into the peacock-foams
how dangerously is changing the total travel-route of the nail-polish
in the high tide of the coconut-kernel
that conquers the world
today the water-pigeon gets pain
only by the flute made of palm-leaf
can't be written the pleasure-trip in boat
of the injured-knee night-queen that is deposited heavily
on the collar of the village-moonlight
even-then the gramophone would be playing on
even-then the courageous pheasant would proceed further
to throw towards the squirrel a dinner-sleep
then all the daughters in disguise of birds certainly
may come out from within the salted mosquito-net
burning open-ground in their eyes
even after
the small boats of the fig leaves
would slip from the chorus song
of the roses
then they are to be pulled forward to the river-bed
of the late afternoon
to make them understand again
that such Xerox-centre which can ignore its metallic-birth
does not grow even now on either side of this muddy road
so look at to see how the epenthesis
of the screwpine-leaf withdraws her beak from the old dome
and pours
all new mathematics
into the compact-disc stitched with the back of the sea-tortoise
if that's not real
how in the left and right
such evil-company of the oxygen would creep
if the next part of this commentary
resumes from the umbilicus cavity of the x-mass
would the blood-sugar of the water-plankton be rising continuously
look there again
the feather of colour that is in her adolescence
touches the cold magnet of her gamut
to disperse the cherry orchards
now if the doors of this brown triangle be got open
you can see on the screen one by one
the projection of the apex-points of the red-palash
and in the night-texture of the kathakali-kathak
they are supplying continuously
small sun-shines in poly-packs
the bowstring that passes through the centre
is the tendency of the reddish sunshine
to become drenched some more
let us hear
what the milky-way seamed by pins
says
and it's you
how much can you be able to read
the venation of the Barringtonia acutangula
can you touch the season of making apples
in the aquarium
the empty bottles without any co-ordinate
that shoulder with endless grief
the hands of the wall-clocks
in a sudden depression
they're also making crowd
at the beauty parlour
you have promised someday
to present a flower-vase to display some drops of blood
in the circled face
do you remember it
you haven't floated that turnip
till now
here the month of trumpet-flower
covers everything
with reedy grass
with the festival of colours of the white horses
the new leaves of bananas become associated
the total dipavali rows
along the evening-balcony
taking it as daylight
will any bird fly towards it
then send a walkman
for the bamboo plants
you must go today
in search of the source
of the hand-woven lamp-post
from the pitcher-worship to the kantha-stitch
it is a very large
twelve-horned deer
the mango-marrow
demands more land
demands more kingfisher
the breath of the Ravenala
touches the chicks of the black-pepper
in every evening
the flood that tears the button
touches the bowstring
that passes through the centre of magnolia
soap-song
if the sinking-of-boat ...ice-cream by name
be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood ... by name roll no 31
then would the wings of the comics
cease to exist
what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling
from the stomach of the moon
what writes the pus and blood
what writes the fuming-hot rice
the creepers and the herbs grow continuously
in the insomniac bath-tub
the sounds of the horse-hoof floated by the river
used to change the velocity of its clothes
both in the morning and evening
the birds from the cornice go to school
by dip-swimming
it may come one day when the fishes
become very angry and in the tale of the sweet-meat
the potter will destroy the jointly-built bee-hive
then all hurricane would be habituated to dinner
sans saliva
then there would be no such morning-walk
in the body of the trees
from which such a bore could be found out
through which an elderly saral may fly
into the blue translation of a squirrel
the magnetic field of the orange-pulp
and the productivity of the open window
reside in the same locality
if their frequency be touched
then the the antenna of the mermaids
speared with sleeping-oil
may be injured
by burnings their eyes
the crow-birds knocks at
in the soap-foams
produced by the afternoon
the pond with a jumping deer
wants to make bite
it is not known by this way
when a white hyphen
sticks to the palate of the shirt
now put off all the whispers
and let it be talked on the will-paper of the bees
why the pages from the honourable ash-trays
be excluded
those bunch of waters
that come out from the churning of the anises
and the jumps born of their semen
also make friends with the group-photos
now let this other night sends its best wishes
to the future candles
through a cell-phone
line of rains
1
from the utterance of the clouds I can understand now
there is no particular season which may be called as rainy
in any time those weak-days may be drenched
the water-mark of the candles may exist after the sun rises
now whether it was a wrong way or a wrong going
that debate is still on
2
you put the age over my shoulders
but I can't roar so much why
my anger is then no more a child
if the yellow colour means the disappearance of whiteness
from the locked-teeth then the bird will fly
with its beaks getting experienced
when all one around here
wants to be the seed of the intellectual grass
how much relevant is such a mute lamp-post
3
the morning of the clouds awakes
touching the line of rains
another giant night keeps waiting
in the darkness of the other
that delta rises in the secret water of the river
where with the songs of the birds
the hot coffee acquires the lips
the hands are as if like very known creepers
the tree is in search for a brown body
to which if a marriage could be organised
the thought of the disturbed walls also disappears
4
I am sitting here in this shadow-hell
unfurling a paper on the strong storm
before night comes keep your face up
from the silky letter
and let me see you
I would not go to that fabrics again
of late I have turned into stone by heavy rain-fall
now heat is required in equal measure
for which I shall have to become loser in every game
afterwards with my dusts
this paper will fly away
you recreate me with a new fever
the precipitation relating to slaughter-land
the season-change of the vagrant pole-star easily picks up a sip
from the list of ducks of the night-watchers
standing on the bye-lane of the horse-race ... by the weight of the confession made
by the spelling-mistakes of a moonlit night to the lotus-leaves ... the amputated
tongues of the night-bulbs gradually rolls down to the banyan-pods of the side-characters
the sharp archer of the star-apple moves away some furlongs from the usual
word-stairs and swallowed a whole grammar with fumes by spoon
thus with the number of velocity-poems that the punjabi with boutique prints
can produce... or will produce ... gluttonous flower-vase of the magic-painter
can make cool the slaughter-ground ... spread to the horizons of the krishnachura
that is deviated from its own track
high-yielding verses
when this endless anchal of dhanekhali sari
continues to make dip-swimming
in the bottomless water of the paddy
and if into the colour of her fore-finger
enters repeatedly some whole-noons of the chot-boshekh
and from the more depth of the ceiling-fan
comes out the ordour of the open-hair of the village-orange
then with that lac-saliva wouldn't an easy pandel
be constructed on the roof
its water will be made begin as well
that white cloud ... that life of this concrete ...
beforehand to it ... with a garland of flowers of the sun-plant
around her neck... let her be seated on this branch of peepul branch... for once
taking the warmth of the kites flown after having a thread-cut
let the cows of man be productive by a few inch more
spraying red-rose
to print herself the headache of the magnolia
sometimes spreads up to the legs of the ripe mangos
in the water that creeps up to the horizon
the magic-deer of panchbati is sailing solo
under the neon-sun the groundnuts learn
the vow-tale of the deep lipstick
if in the centre of the mango-pith ... standing on the hanging-balcony
there is a flower of guava ... then ...while walking along her sweet grievances
some day that handmade fan must be traced... to make the clouds that are swept in by storm more literate ... the time to dip the painting brush
in the colour of whose recommendations is still........
it happens... from the desire to get printed
the magic-deer... before reaching to any literacy-centre ...
some dusts gather on her body...some part is eaten by the ants...
although there should have been some arrangements
to spray the red-rose regularly
and next ... the winter comes
the hands want to be stolen
under the blue scarf
Poetry by murari sinha
Read 435 times
Written on 2010-04-30 at 18:54
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
