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I often visited the archive

Reviewed the history

And indulged in imagining

The return of an era.

However, the passage of time

Made me realise its futility.

The intertextuality of a certain past

With present did not suit me well.

So, much like instances earlier

Yet with a quietness and greater resolve

I turn away from the old records

To let the dust of time get them.

The Boy, the Man and the Berries

There was a little boy I knew
He’d asked me to pick for him
A few berries on my way back
As I drew past the bend in the road,
A fortress seemed to have risen
From underneath the garden
Where he played, where he sang
Where he rolled in the grass.

The fortress loomed over the horizon
The boy nowhere in sight. 
Unsure if the fortress was real
Or whether I was delirious, I walked on.
All the bastions had men on guard,
Canons were loaded to fire.
Unable to come to terms with what lay
In front, I touched the wall.

The coldness of the dressed-rock
Sank in my bones, discomforting.
I looked for the door — none to avail.
Creeping up the wall — through a window
I caught a glimpse of a man, beaten down
Bulging out of the powder blue shirt
The little boy wore when he sang to me
The first song of love, he’d learnt.

I threw berries into the dungeon
Hoping the man would throw back one
I hear no sound, no movement.
I wait, and I wonder,
Will he pick them up when I am gone?

Following the Shadow

It feels as if someone is following me,
A shadow from the past, maybe.
And just when I turn back to see
It’s gone.

But the shadow leaves a trace —
Its reflection froze in the lake
Given it was the end of December.
But maybe, it was just passing by.

Baffling, as it was
Despite her hard-earned indifference
She / I went to look in the niche
Where the shadow lurked.

There was no sense of movement.
There was, however, a familiar scent —
A scent that was inviting
Attached to a memory, equally frightening.

She went down the abandoned alley
Another time, another hour.
The same stillness plagued the view
Afflicting her bone and sinew.

The excruciating pain she once knew
Came flashing before her eyes
As did passion, she never again afforded.
She stood, perplexed with thoughts, sweet and sordid.

Tides of the ocean, or the calm of the lake
Was not a choice she wanted to make.
So she chose instead
To let the sea draw close, into a lagoon.

But

It’s not often you come across
Someone who mirrors you so much –
Whose thoughts and emotions
Resonate with you as much.

.

And yet, they let it go,
You let it go –
Because it doesn’t come easy.
Because distance you know.

.

And in doing so we ignore –
Humans have for long known
To cover the difference, both in
Space and time.

आशा

“ तह से उबर रही है आशा…

ऐसा लग रहा है मानो,
छट रहे हों मेघ काले |
अँधेरी गहराइयों से जानो
पकड़ कर तैरती डालें,
और कुलांचते हताशा,
तह से उबर रही है आशा |
सतह पर उभर रही है आशा ||

~ ओशिन विप्रा सागर ©

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Translated:

The feeling is as if
the clouds are shifting
And from the depths of darkness
holding onto floating twigs
skipping over despair
reemerging is the sunk hope,
resurfacing is the sunk hope.

~ Yours truly
OVS

How I Miss Things I Have Never Known

My current favorite from ‘Love & Misadventure’ by Lang Leav. (I read the complete book a year ago. I read it whenever I am alone and I feel emotionally charged. My favorite has changed over the past year, depending on where I am personally in life, yes it’s been an adventure!)

Simple language makes these poems easy to understand unlike the classics. And the relatable emotions is what makes these poems memorable as they find a place in the readers’ lives. Thank you Lang Leav for providing a poem for almost every occasion.

He and She

Have you met someone at a fleeting time and space, you’ve really liked them, you’re not sure if you will see them again or if you will get a chance to get to know them, and take it forward? Read on just the  poem reiterating those feelings, and  that, subtly so.

Have Some Pride

It’s certainly not love
Leave no room for doubt.
Doesn’t look like budding friendship either
So it shall be, day in and day out.

Though you might think so
Neither is it getting to know.
And if you’re unable to see
Retrospect, shall we?

Hit and Miss

In the dark alley, he rode past her.

The headlamp spoiled her spur.

Blinded by light, she closed her eyes.

He saw her, she missed his sight.

Paris

Talking about art at The Louvre
Living our dream, with her
Walking along the banks of Seine,
You must be on cloud ten.

Leave being sad,
I am not bothered anymore.
When life closes one,
It opens another door.