Anshu Choudry, July 2013

TO BE LEFT ALONE WITH THE MIND

 

 

There is no death, dead by eternity

Living inside the mortal frame immortal

Puissant fingers skip letters to run with words

Spluttering all around; Races break into dances

These legs with wings and fins defying gravity

Or the currents with electricity playing around

The weightless arms, reach the sun unlike Icarus

Sisyphus’ relieved of the rewards of achievement

Soars with his rocks; No crowds are seen to pull down

And stab the Ceaser indulgent with Cleopatra

Depravity deified to ingenuous thought

Creates another planet of Life

Reclusion the new moon orbiting around

Shines without the fear of days or the month’s anonymity

Famous, all too famous the jactitations of the dark

Spill over and vaporize

Uneven breathings calm; claiming all poisons are pure……………..

 

 

 THE OMNIFICENT

In my lopsided heart tilting to the left

The bells cannot chime

Sounds are ruffled, confused

Echoes masquerade as if escaping from the past

Pumping with dilated force the life in rhythms

Irregular; the beats dwell in disharmony

All vibrations must conform, confirms the doctor

Not the creator

His stethoscope studies the work happening under my rib-cage

Beautifully plastered with even skin

And fails

He does not understand that there are

Bells in my heart that also dance

Bend and rise up or go down

Whirl about and swing like a pendulum

Take steps to and fro, back and forth

From the past to leap into the future

He has not noticed the dawdle or

Swagger when drunk on present

The race against the past

For the unreachable future

He cannot foresee that the bells

Change positions too often

Or imagine that there may be

An abandoned temple covered by moss

And the overgrown veins stronger than

Of Banyan trees; self-indulgence of the profligate

Binding the bells in grips of repentance

Such that they can chime no more

If it were a ship swimming in my seas

Distant beyond the horizon where sounds

Cannot reach him, he will miss

The SOS under the noise of storms

He will not gather that the bells are sinking

The eternal calm of my bells gives him the

Hope that peace is what prevails after the war

His degrees on bits of paper cannot reach

Where I am meeting God, when the bells toll last.

 

 

Anshu Choudhry is a Master’s Degree holder in Mathematics and English and employed as an Officer with the Government of India . Academics and work, apart from life have inspired her to indulge in poetry to express the beautiful thoughts that visit her imagination, impromptu.

 

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