LIPS

Lips of leaves awakened
to speak
in words of a lover- sun,
towards light take a turn ;
with smiles on cheeks
traversing miles
in all possible direction;
with a secret wish
see how eagerly, silently
do they burn !

With kisses of a slow breeze
arousing memories to churn
moments of delight all sweet
in not too distant a past,
when young leaves nestled
around your cheeks ;
wet with desire to speak
about feelings in my heart
bursting into waves of ecstasy ;
when speechless I listened
dumb like the petals
of a nearby pansy
as if stricken with a lunacy .

Leaves today announce your presence
to this mad wind with their tips
tickling my mind ,
and in these leaves
my love in hue of green do I find .

@ copy right : saroj k. padhi. 21/01/15

SAINT ARAKSHITA DAS

Today the Om shaped old Olasuni hill 
vibrates with chant of your holy name 
and river Gobari is in her annual thrill
despite January’s usual morning chill ;

this memorial day of your salvation
does this holy shrine with joy illumine
with devotees galore enjoying rice cakes 
and dry fishes for which they dearly pine ;

a few remember your love of truth divine
that turned you from a prince 
to a mendicant in the shades of wild vine
in search of perpetual bliss

that led you from royal comforts to crises,
a disguised life of meditation in caves
where the human soul only for God’s love craves .

We are but now a generation of religious tourists
with little understanding 
of lines from your ‘Mahimandal Geeta’
we’re rather lovers of a new living
as prescribed by a consumerism ‘Geeta’.

@ copy right : saroj k. padhi 20/01/15

WHY TAKE TENSION ?

Why do I take tension so often ?
When yellow leaves quietly slip off
the golden boughs of a lazy afternoon
to find themselves cuddled 
by an eager loving brown earth 
ready to gulp them down all so soon ;
I awake and wonder
gripped by tremors of an unknown fear
to find the leaves of my body
falling off into shadow spaces 
beneath fallen leaves all so very dear !

Why do I take tension
when multi-coloured petals silently fade
wounded subtly by a scorching sun ,
as flowers change hues
in tune with rhythms of a breeze
whizzing past my fingers crossed
as I wait for Spring behind the shrunken trees ?

Why do I take tension?
Tell me why 
when fields look less green
and crops ripen to assume colours of bright gold ,
and drops transpire into a plenitude 
of a too distant rain beyond time’s near hold !

Is tension my second nature ?
Or the culture of my mind ?
Is Nature my sole love 
which everywhere I do find !

@copy right: saroj k. padhi/ 19/01/15

BAFFLEMENT

‘Which me of me is me’?--

That’s the question I so oft’ ask

in the wee hours of the morning,

as I wake up from a nightmare’s shock

to find the splinters of my fragile self falling

to resound in the sanctum of consciousness

with spectres of bitterness and sweetness ;

echoing the footfalls of distant memories

in the hazy corridors of a ubiquitous time

that points to traces of sweet moments

unerasable in semi-darkness of past events .

Dreams catapult me to spaces beyond time

where I catch tropes for magic moments

inside the  glowing  fire of an exotic clime

rich in some incomprehensible contents .

And ‘now’ is a continuous  deferral perhaps

with breaths of unwarranted flow of anxiety

uncontrollable thoughts clawing the mind

blocking the sure way to arrival at eternity !!!

@ copy right : saroj k. padhi 17/01/15

AT THE TEMPLE

Leaves sweep the floor

with broom of an awakened wind,

flow of unflinching faith

silences conflicts in shaky mind;

an unseen  force  uncovers outer skin

letting us see  deep within,

a lotus sits inside the dark sanctorum

in wait for light to be seen ;

now a pull from some hands unseen

takes us nearest to ourselves ,

we feel  we are petals of that lotus

lit up with love’s breezy shakes .

@ copy right: saroj k. padhi/17.01.15

A NIGHT IN A TRIBAL VILLAGE

Here the moon has lost idea of her own self

with  hangover of ‘salapa’ in night’s cold vein,

with the pristine stream’s eternal delight  in

soaking  in her ever burgeoning   rustic pain--

of days of wallow in hunger quenched by  mango seeds

of long bouts of  malarial sleep on bed of dry weeds

under low thatches, where the moon descends to hug

the tears of  their inexpressible sorrow’s obstinate bug

sqatting on their silent minds of profound innocence

where glowworms read startling chapters of patience ;

in face of no roads and for years no  visits by babus

and  with none to redress their  small, little woes ,

they have learnt one lesson so well in everyday  life

to love whoever comes their way, and love of strife .

I have forgotten myself here in dance with ‘Dhangdas’ and ‘Dhangdis’

In beats of their handy drums, with wooden horse rides and cool music

Let me not awake to my reality anymore and be lost into this joy ethnic .

@ saroj k. padhi  *16/01/15

N.B.   ‘Salapa’ is an intoxicating drink from a tree of the same name;  ‘dhangdas’,’dhangdis’—tribal unmarried boys n girls

BEHIND THE TEMPLE

A trail of clouds uncertain about rain

hangs around neck of  belief in pain.

Standing silent at the back of the temple we see

how wishes transpire from body of offerings ,

miles stretch out from the tongues of desire ;

in the stubborn bodies of ancient stones ,

and from fragile limbs of mire in mute prayer ;

doors of our temple are not open yet ;

with wait for fire from high spirits

dormant like layers of sands wet

they look heavenward for heights .

Are we ready for the front door?

It’s a terrible question that continues to haunt,

so often as we try to a false appearance flaunt

in our misplaced love’s wild, wild  hunt ,

for some peace that lies at the root of mind

but not at the edge of our faith grown so blunt .

@copy right: saroj k. padhi / 15.01.15