In-Between + More
dedication:
Mamta Jha
In-Between
In the night, in my dream
I was searching my love
with all my means and skills
I was searching and recalling
some lovely moments I’d passed
with her in the first spring
after a tiresome exercise
I found her seated in a remote corner,
I was tired and looking weak
but I lifted her up
in my arms at once
to us this reunion was a new life
we wept, smiled and returned home,
when I woke up
I narrated my dream to her
she smiled and after a pause,
she said, “Everyone searches something
and some lucky souls find it”
with this, something disappeared from me
and something came to me
between my night and my day
between my dream and my reality
many worlds appear
many worlds disappear
a story concludes with a poem
a poem sinks into a story
between the ups and downs
many bubbles are formed
many bubbles burst
between the formation and the burst
there’s susurration – of love
that runs in my blood
and sings in my breaths.
Blissful Notes
Roaming on beaches I saw
rising and falling tides
hilarious souls rowing against waves
and ships loaded with many goods
treading on the sand
holding the hands of my sweet-heart
in a costume covering little, opening much
I left the diurnal discourses far behind
exploring the deep blue water
I found it was a desire in the day
and a dream in the night
dwelling in my curious heart
all the games on land
passionate feats in air
and agitated dives in water
that I learnt from my ancestors
raised their heads but I moved ahead
brushing my soul in surfing tides
I played some notes on succulent lips
forgot some worn out whims
in a luxuriant kiss.
Talking Eyes
Some eyes meet
some eye-lashes blink
some narrate stories with no whisper
some drink poems with no susurration
some eyes have questions
pertaining to some tenses
some eyes have answers
filling the void of some places
sitting face to face
our eyes talked in a train
as a motion-picture they revealed something
as a still-picture they hid many things
reaching the destination
we felt- we’ve to go beyond
some called it was a journey
some called it was destiny
to us it was a story in silence
an unsung humming in hearts
a poem in youthful lovely eyes
a canvas catching the rhythm of sighs.