Poetry – The Timber Trawler

Visitations

Uncle Owl with wizened head
Stared long and hard with abyss eyes,
Dark ’twas – the hour of the dead,
As dew dripped below fireflies,
Quiet answered to crickets’ cries.

Creak of a door broke it all,
Mist quivered to yellowy gleams-
Leaves rustled beneath the footfall,
That slid along the earthy seams,
Clambering up the wooden beams.

Uncle Owl with abyss eyes
Spied stoic as a stone each night
What the night’s forces did reprise,
Without fail, to moans of delight
And chuckles bursting from inside.

‘Tis been the story all along,
The strange visitations meanwhile,
Have turned his hair grey since long,
But what transpires in truth inside
Has left him none the less senile.

One gunshot ended it all,
Uncle Owl fell limp to the ground;
There he lay right at the footfall,
With frozen image on eyes round-
Of baby to Mother firmly bound.

©Asiman Panda 2010

Darkness was her cover,
And silence, just a close friend,
The winds ever drove her,
By the night’s gloomy bend;
Some say they spotted her,
But they are not really sure,
What spirit rode with her,
Is still to them all obscure.

Nay, she wore no white gown,
But the colours of the storm,
And she wore one wide frown,
Scarier than is the norm;
She whizzed away through town,
Her gaze met nobody’s eyes,
Those that tried she ran down,
With a stare colder than ice.

Mysterious, how she looked,
At the night with face so red!
What deep in her mind cooked,
What paths she proposed to tread?
Suspicious, when she looked,
At people talk so unsure,
She trusted none, nor brooked,
None’s ill-advised overture.

(I say : )

Darkness is your cover,
With your silence standing out,
The winds drive you ever,
They only speak roundabout,
They swirl, they twirl, like tides,
But reveal not who you are,
What spirit in you rides,
Remains a mystery so far.

Now, you should see my heart,
Racing, as the aura spreads,
My eyes are aching hard,
Tracing the ends of the threads;
You whizzed away past me,
Really not meeting my gaze,
Though I try I don’t see,
How you manoeuvre this maze.

Mysterious, why you look,
With fire burning in your eyes,
Mysterious, how you look,
Beneath graveness’ disguise;
Mysterious, what you think,
Inside caverns of your mind,
To each mysterious thing,
The answers I want to find.

©Asiman Panda 2008

Strangers Still?

Stranger! O Stranger! Did you not,
First land upon, the fenced highway
Of my heart, heavily guarded
By my vows to not drive astray?
But still I did, when you came by,
And my life became runaway!

Didn’t you touch my life with fingers
Of a sorceress casting her spells?
And didn’t you soothe my burning aches,
And send me mounting carousels?
Oh though were those fleeting moments…
The joy from them still deep here dwells!

When blissful joy some stranger gives,
Should then she be a stranger still?
Can she not be my journey-mate,
And ride with me o’er plain and hill?
And what travels those might have been,
Had we travelled as Jack and Jill!

Murphy’s law’s reigned right from the start,
But that ain’t reason why you can’t,
Take a chance on me and find out
If I could be the man you want.
And on the way we shall both learn
That you and I are strangers scant!

©Asiman Panda 2009

Why the Roses Blush

Roses blush as you smell them,
Tulips bow to kiss your hand,
Your voice renders every poem
Sung by some heavenly band.

Blizzards close in on your house,
Seeking their calm at your door;
Glaring eyes of yours will douse
Raging fires on forest floors.

Winds stand still just so your hair
Can fly by at breakneck speed;
Clouds sail buoyed by your airs –
The airs of a Queen indeed!

Roses blush as they cling tight
To your mushy tender palm;
Wildest beasts with all their might
Around you relax, becalm.

Amongst themselves, cuckoos fight
To gain your sole attention;
The Sun, on you, bestows Light:
Soon will follow the Seasons.

The Moon, Stars, Nature and all-
Engaged in a madness, rush
To stand at your beck and call,
Say why won’t, the Roses blush?

©Asiman Panda 2008

Wait Fiery Sun

Wait fiery Sun, set no further,
Don’t you know that she would rather
Bask in your blaze than rest at night?
Can you not fathom her delight?
The glee she feels while you’re around,
The smile that makes the world go round,
The laughter this town talks about
When her face lights up sans a doubt.

Wait fiery Sun, do not rise yet,
For do you really want to regret?
Don’t you know, while you were away,
Late at night in her bed she lay,
Dreaming up ways to bring you back
Into the skies which the stars pack?
Now look at her all wrapped up
In bed, don’t you dare wake her up!

Wait fiery Sun, explain to me
How and what it’s that you and she
Share between you that others don’t-
Like darkness and night, ties you both.
I guess it’s the flame you both carry-
You grace the day, on the contrary,
In times when you forget to shine
She could light up lives, even mine.

©Asiman Panda 2008

Sonnet 4

Born was a baby, blessed with a boon
Bestowed ‘pon her by empyrean powers,
From birth tied alike to both sun and moon,
Her bed bestrewn with feathers and flowers;
Watched over by Time who chose to stand still,
Joined duly by the God of dreamless peace,
Thrives she further ‘pon the Pixies’ goodwill –
Who take all her cares and troubles on lease;
Any which being, divine or otherwise,
That dared disturbed her shall go asunder,
Needless to say, lies welfare of the wise
In steering clear of the dormant thunder;
Freed of time and dream, for lifetime to keep,
She’s got a boon – that of a baby’s sleep.

Sonnet 3

Far from the frenzied town are we here came-
A shrine with love in its each artery,
Me sat beside the most beautiful dame,
Feeling a man that’s won the lottery;
It’s true I am a man on a mountain,
And you the peerless peak I pine to reach,
If it means my blood shall form a fountain,
Gladly will it the ground between us leach;
I must be a man to the idea wed
Maybe far before its time hath come,
Yet, the dreams I see are that we both led
Years five and fifteen and fifty and some;
My vow’s been made, now’s left an unsaid line-
Mine ring finger is yours – can yours be mine?

Sonnet 2

‘Tween loving and wanting, I vacillate,
Wild as a pendulum, one merely drunk,
With rhythm and time am I now profligate,
Circling inside the clock’s restrictive trunk.
My moods are now seasons – all in one day,
The high tide and low, same and disparate;
While my sane mind may keep ill thoughts at bay
How long can my insane heart tolerate?
I might as well be fish out of water,
Free in the air, but still flailing about,
Caged or freed, seems to no longer matter-
The tug-o-war rages on bout aft’r bout;
For wanting you is to my ethics throw,
And loving you, then, is letting you go.

Sonnet 1

The king did send word o’er lands – high and flat
If there be men fit for your acquaintance;
Bedecked in braids of your beauty you sat-
O Princess, you of the South West highlands,
Have you the faintest idea of your charms?
The keys your mien strikes in the hearts of men?
Pour they in – princes, barons and gendarmes –
Who shall your Highness choose of all these then?
Bear in mind, your beauty is amplified
By focus of mind and high skill of hand-
Does the lore of personage so rarefied
Not the stamp of perpetuity demand?
Thence, quill in one hand, I submit a bard –
Your hand in my other be my reward.

Truth

Truth is not seen, but revealed, it is said,
To the Chosen One, to where he is led –
And that it’s passed to the world he shall see,
Ergo, does this onus fall upon me.

As I have been decreed, truth I shall say –
She’s fresh as dew to the first morning ray,
Perched on her lofty seat atop a leaf
In all things pristine, inspiring belief.

Never mind, her friend is a constant frown
Straddling her face like a luminous crown,
Yet when she takes it down once in a while,
Like truth, so is revealed her lustrous smile.

Under oath now, I shall dare vouch for this –
That smile is one the gods too best not miss:
Risen brow, lips arched as the crescent moon,
Eyes as stars, teeth as the sun at high noon.

Juniper-like she exudes the picture
Of the flawless candidness of Nature
Seeming delightful, from no matter where –
Her every state is a breath of fresh air.

All said and done, she is one of a kind,
Perfect of the body, pure of the mind,
Bathed doubtless by the fountain of youth –
And that, my dear, is nothing but the truth.