Monday, December 24, 2012

I Plan to Steal a Guitar Tomorrow


Tomorrow, I plan to steal a guitar
From a nearby musical store.
I will pet this guitar like a
Fish, a cat or a parrot.
When the strings of the guitar grow like those unruly hairs,
I will trim them off with lot of warmth.
With a comb, I will make them look tidy.

The day when my guitar gets a bad throat
Will feed him warm water
And will let him do gargle regularly.

I have also crafted a wooden bed for him
Where I have designs of human…a lot of beautiful human

I am still thinking what would he like to have for his meal?
Chicken or something vegetarian?
Some seafood or just some cola.
I somehow feel, if he gets an ice cream,
I will see a smile of a rainbow on his face.
So I am going to steal a guitar tomorrow.
Please come tomorrow to meet my new guest.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

The Squirrel

I see a squirrel in my balcony.
It’s been couple of days -
He comes and peeps through my window.
He is not exactly black-
Neither brown nor maroon.
He is more like the dusk -
The dusk that reminds me of your hair,
The onset of the darkness is exactly the color of the squirrel.
Its eyes has the moist color-
Though it’s very milky
I prefer calling it cloudy-
The white clear ones but
Stores a tempest beneath.
I realize we are bonded with a mutual thought.
An unknown relationship but a strong stream of consciousness.

It rained heavily yesterday and
I see a clear sky since then.
The rain has stormed in my balcony and I don’t see the squirrel today.
The rain drops touched my arms today and I feel my wings in the air.

BURDEN by Shobha Goswami

One of Shobha Goswami's finest paintings that I am so impressed with that at the first glance I could not resist myself linking it to my blog. She is one of the finest painters in the contemporary times and who is highly inspired by Nature's beauty. To know more about her works please click NISARGA Art Prints

my room

In one of the rooms of mine he studies,in another one he takes his meal, in one of them he sings ,sleeps in the other. He rents all the four rooms of my heart He is none but sorrow. - Nilim Kumar

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