Category: Poetry

Word’s gone around, and the pictures confirm
That you’ve been prone to looking long and firm, 
Into the distance, over land and sea- 
You’ve been using your creativity. 

Some day you will stumble upon a place 
And by instinct, you’ll marvel at its grace, 
And, with creased brow and pursed lips, maybe, 
Begin to etch it for posterity. 

Now you may look at the horizon, 
And know North from where the Sun’s arisen, 
Or simply from the app on your phone, 
(And that’s only if you’d already known!) 

But what when the clouds start playing spoilsport, 
And your phone’s charge is dangerously short? 
You’re just sketching away sans direction- 
You know, that’s incomplete information. 

Fret not, for now you have this secret tool- 
Sailors have used to new seas and lands rule; 
So come rain or snow, or man-made mishap, 
You just get going at a finger’s snap. 

©Asiman Panda 2017

Then there will be the heavy feeling again,
One that’s born out of the strangest pain,
Not like the one mighty blow of a sword,
But the sting of many a hurtful word;
I’m sure everyone’s had a taste of that
At some point of time in a life come what.
I hate to say – you are no exception,
How will you, then contain this emotion?

Then there will be compassion all around-
Your callous mind will respond to its sound,
Arising from its deep slumber of eons,
Liberating from your heart the pigeons,
Trapped, and fluttering their wings in vain,
‘Cause you would rather keep them in chains,
When all you need is unfasten and see,
Someone out there willing to catch ’em free.

The pall will then lift from your cloudy mind;
The Sun will shine and leave the rain behind;
The wind will bring the smell of the flowers,
That someone’s been tending over the years;
Ask yourself, how that time might never come?
It will dawn upon you some time here from-
When the ice thaws, a soft corner for me,
Somewhere remote in your heart, there will be.

©Asiman Panda 2009

Fire and Water once met on the hedge-
Fire flared, Water hissed, to acknowledge
Fire’s to Water what snake’s to snake-catcher,
But they could still keep what’s most to matter.
 
Fire and Water played delicate games-
Burning and quenching amidst the flames;
The Contest played even for most the while,
For one winning would make It all futile.
 
Water soon loathed Fire’s searing heat,
While his stock drained, lightening his feet;
Before long, he refused to play further,
Grew his indifference, cloaking his torture.
 
So Fire then grew three-fold in fiery,
And Water slinked away entirely-
Fire beat about like a ghost possessed,
Water pondered what kept Fire obsessed…
 

---

 
Water wouldn’t know even if he froze
That all Fire craves is Water’s approach,
For the burning throughout soul and body
Can only quench in Water’s custody.
 
©Asiman Panda 2010

Mischievous waves of the perennial spring,
‘Tween thy currents am I dispos’d to dream
Of deeps as Marianna Trench may seem,
The heady scents their musky innards bring;
Blown South-bound ‘gainst the steadfast Sirocco
‘Low the mountains, will I trudge fertile plains,
Then forage the fabled thick-shrubb’d terrains
Nestling the marshy gorge of Morocco…
The forbearance of my eager members
Is match’d only by the thirst in my throat,
Which in mixing of downpours and embers,
Sizzles and soars right ‘tween toe and finger-
When o’er conquest of the South I will gloat
The joys of my travails shall still linger.

©Asiman Panda 2010

Little by little, you extract my blood
Into countless vials that wildly flood
The air that I breathe, sights that my eyes read,
You make it hard while you leave me to bleed.
 
Moment by moment, you walk no closer,
But farther, and why? is one big poser.
For all I see, I’m not blind to omit
Sly that you are, you’re forever at it.
 
Draught after draught, leaves pile upon the earth,
Life is a war until death from the birth,
While I strive so my soul shall be free
You make this fight tougher than tough can be.
 
Drop by drop, do the lakes and the rivers swell,
So does my heart (wherein secured you dwell),
With tiny drops of manna you donate
To make my earthly existence ornate.
 
Night after night, memories sweep my sleep,
Bringing the touch of lips for me to keep
Caged right here, and captived there like you said,
In your closed fists, and my heart and my head.
 
Tugs and tiffs later, our love only grows,
Strong like the stream after the hurdles flows,
And rocks the paper-boat with you and me –
Know our boat will drift strong even at sea.

©Asiman Panda 2010

Ah friendship! To what depths can you plummet,
In the advent of your sombre twilight?
Does that back oozing red not highlight
The stark imminence of your sorry death?
Time was when you fed your morsels of faith
To a parched palate lying stripped of taste;
But all now fills this drab expanse of waste
Is the portent of your lumbering wraith!
Yes, I, the wretched king of ‘ungratefuls’,
Have seen you writhing in my betrayal,
Despite your standing by gold-tinted rules,
All of which, now consigned to history,
Has, doubtless, enticed the friend disloyal
To stab your back to end your misery.

©Asiman Panda 2007

The Sun rises rather early on my heart,
And the days of pining, are longer and hard;
So much sweat for so short a walk!
Empty rivers, but so much to ask,
Unbearable nights, writhing in the dark!
Heat waves and so much more,
         And you thought that was summer?
Well, that’s the season you never knew…
         That season is – You.

The Heavens are a picture of gloom,
They cloud my heart, in my ears boom;
Thunder there and the lightning’s here,
Mayhem there but the impact’s here,
Swelling rivers, breaking dams far and near!
Flash floods are here for good reason,
         But this isn’t the rainy season;
That’s the season you never knew…
         That season is – You.

Now they’re pushing me, to the inside,
To slip into my wools, to turn the tide,
Aching joints, frostbite in my heart!
Icy winds tearing the woods apart,
Chill in the muscles till the colds depart!
Snowstorms, blizzards and snowfall,
          But that’s no winter, after all,
That’s another season you never knew…
          That season is – You.

Then She decides to flaunt Her bounty,
And unleash it all throughout the county;
What’s in the heart… a song of eternal bliss!
What’s in the air… a kindred spirit’s kiss!
Green, yellow and red do seem not amiss-
A dance of the flowers,
          And Spring could be all ours;
Now that’s a season I wish I knew…
          That season is – You.

©Asiman Panda 2009

How much more shall I extol you
To the Heavens, to all garments divine?
Long have I wondered it is few,
So I’ll praise till the sun shall shine.

I have not these labours done
So you shall jeer at me later on,
Still have I clothed you in jewels ethereal,
With supplies that are beyond my all.

How much more shall I drag my feet
When it causes not for me a single beat?
Must I fire my imagination for nothing?
Must I write, must I praise and sing?

Tell me what royalty I do seek
From you, for this offering unique?
Soaked I am in a drizzle of compassion,
Fie, fie on my endeavours of passion!

Long have I wondered what is new-
Exhausted as I am, no more shall I spew
And shall now to you, bid adieu,
No more, no more shall I extol you!

©Asiman Panda 2005

Cry you not dear, shed not in vain tears,
And drop you not your shoulders often,
For then, your own zillion faceless fears,
You merely quickly let embolden!
Let instead your eyes encapture
The muted rumblings in million heads,
Souls of which shall ne’er feel the rapture
Of taste of bread, or a wink on beds…

Beds, the likes of which you daily grace,
Are but wishful thoughts best swept aside
For ’nother birth on Earth’s ruthless face,
So why not stifle the dream inside?
Yeah, why not inside, the emptiness?
Left behind by man’s fervent rampage
Turning greenly grass to concrete mess-
Halt, witness mankind’s ‘coming-of-age’!

And what woe ‘coming-of-age’ entails
For the trodden down, is in your eyes,
So if you must cry, then pick their trails
And shed your tears for their muted cries!
Your fears shall then break asunder,
And each piece for each man shall adorn
A shield resisting meek surrender,
And then your tears shall have justice borne.

©Asiman Panda 2009

Soon it’s going to rain in the villages,
Mixed reactions will describe visages,
Yes, there had been a drought for sure-
Old wretched lady, wrought torture!

Dusty children play in dusty lanes,
Armed with marbles, pebbles, canes,
They don’t know they’re going to war
Soon, since the showers are not very far
Away, they don’t know what to call it-
A boon or a curse, this habit
Of Nature – monsoons once a year,
‘Cause with happiness, hope, comes fear.

It wasn’t long ago that this season
For suffering gave a reason,
People were floating on seas of water,
Their houses and utensils did get scatter,
Walls dissolved before their very eyes
People clung to branches and uttered cries
Of horror, hopelessness and misery,
Some distance away, a plank’s a ferry.

Diseases spread faster than people’s slander,
Dreams of getting relief seemed ever grander,
Cattle floated, and thousands went to rest,
Also floated away hopes of a good harvest.

Now is the moment of retrospection though,
Life is normal; steady is life’s flow,
But for the drought the last twelve full moons,
All’s going to change with impending monsoons.

©Asiman Panda 2004