Monday, October 1, 2018




I talk, I   listen
glistening eyes, a full platter,
brimming over with constant chatter.
Are these voices from another time?
Silhouettes pirouetting,
flashbacks stacked one on top of another.
Happy laughter, juvenile pranks,
childhood’s shenanigans in the mind etched.
Time stretches, yawns, a new era dawns.

The ticking clock mocks,
locking horns with my complacence.
I baulk as it shocks me out of my procrastination.
“Time is running out, time is running out”, says the clock,
knocking away relentlessly.
Eyes casting longing glances at that lost realm, I go forward ,
feet racing in helter- skelter haste
arms flaying ,
a recycled song playing
on my lips.


The river swivels in unabashed mirth,
each wave beating staccato beats of freedom.
Falling and rising, rising and falling.
The boulders look on, intrigued,
as the waves gurgle their songs of emancipation,
spurred on by their unshackled existence.

It gushes in rapid torrents,   lisping a freedom song.
Sitting on a chiseled smooth boulder,
my heartbeats become bolder,
exhaling euphoric breaths, I sing along,
free and untethered.
A feathered friend tilts its tiny head
adding its contralto cadences to my notes,
filched from the dust motes
watching us with a voyeur’s delight.

The river swivels on .


Let go, let go!
Why do you run after mirages?
Mark my words, soon the gray realities will sparkle.
The gentle draught will send the shy leaves into a jig,
fanning them into an ardor big.
A thousand and one seconds of unrivalled passion
will throb to the beats of an enchanting music,
so why weep,
why let those melancholy moments creep
into your overburdened heart?
Why rue the colours of flamboyance
evanescing into nothingness?

After inclement weather, the ship again heads forth
into the immensity of water and sky,
wavelets roll across the wilderness of the sea
with a glint,
no longer half- hearted or dull,
the gulls cruise merrily in the sky,
gleefully clutching the merry notes of a song.

Night falls.
Then a tower is glimpsed from afar,
a lighthouse in the horizon;
a beacon, a tint of hope painting the night
with shimmering cones of light.
It twinkles a little, a trifle brittle,
then shyly, kisses the night;
with its bright might.


Dr SANTOSH BAKAYA , academician- essayist - novelist - poet - Ted Speaker is the internationally acclaimed writer of BALLAD OF BAPU , a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi , the first of its kind in the world . Winner of the International Reuel Award for writing and literature [2014]  for her long poem Oh Hark !,  Universal Inspirational Poet Award  , [Pentasi B friendship poetry and Ghana Government  2016 ];  Poet Laureate Award  [ Poetry Society of India , 2017] Bharat Nirman Award for literary excellence [ 2017 ], Her  other books  are WHERE ARE THE LILACS  ? UNDER THE APPLE BOUGHS AND FLIGHTS FROM MY TERRACE . She recently  delivered a TED TALK  on the MYTH OF WRITERS' BLOCK .

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