ASHOK K. BHARGAVA

ASHOK K. BHARGAVA

YEARNINGS...

How can I be myself

my own tree

my own roots, branches, leaves

my own flowers in the morning of

my own sun.

I do not want to be someone

in the doorway,

the back alley or

the main road

without night lights of

my own moon.

In my own shadow

I can walk and be myself

but I am not

who I am

all I am is

my love for you.

Without you

I peel off

in layers of

memories, dreams and desires

some contented

others unfulfilled.

I will be myself

the day I catch winds

with my own fingers

to become fire

with a passionate glow.

REVERIE

No magical thoughts

No miracle pen in hand.

I put words on paper

to let them tell their own story.

The words sprout

and grow on stacks of papers.

Strange, how words become

flowers and bloom to

mend broken hearts

reunite past lovers

reunify lost relatives

dry tear soaked cheeks.

It wasn’t my intention to combine

them in a manuscript

but here I am

kneeling on the floor

to dust, clean and arrange them.

I see a ray of light

stream through the window and

make every scattered word

on the paper dance

to the melody of breeze.

I stop and listen to the sound.

It is as close as my breath.

It steers me to introspection

of this lonely craft

of writing poetry

that makes me love you

and so many other things.

DEPARTURE

I tear

the heart of the mountains

at the speed of a shooting star.

I trample

the canyon roads from

Hope to Lillooet, in search of

a bindi, placed on her forehead

carefully, trying to reincarnate.

Karma will probably never allow it.

At night

all stars look the same.

I wonder if perestroika has

disarrayed the red star over Moscow or

the star over Tiananmen Square

is dimmer now or the blue

Star of David is secure over Golan Heights

like a bindi on her forehead?

I can’t be sure about the nationality of stars.

Like a winding road entwines

the mighty Rockies, her arms

around my neck and her soft body

hard pressed against mine,

wrings my soul with

a force of an avalanche.

A vagrant tear on the edge of her eyes,

glows like a star.

A goodbye in its most subtle form,

a time of departure for me.

Beneath the starless sky,

I don’t know my destination.

ASHOK K. BHARGAVA

ASHOK K. BHARGAVA Ashok is a poet, writer, committed community activist, public speaker and a keen photographer. Based in Vancouver, he continues to combine in his life, all of the above yet it is apparent that his main passion is poetry. Ashok writes both in English and Hindi, and has published several selections of his poems: Mirror of Dreams, A Kernel of Truth, Skipping Stones and Lost in the Morning Calm, among others. His poetry has been published in various literary magazines and anthologies. He has been a featured poet on CBC, CFMQ 105 radio and Channel M television. He was also featured at the Word on the Street, the Asian Heritage Month and International Story Tellers Festivals. Ashok has written for The Canada Times Magazine and the East West News, Asian Journal, The Link, Indo-Canadian Voice and many other newspapers. Ashok is a Poet Laureate of Axlepin Publishing House Philippines and recipient of many awards and distinctions. He holds a Masters Degree in Economics. He is an avid volunteer and believes donation of time enriches us spiritually. He is founder of WIN – Writers International Network Canada, a non-profit organization that discovers, nourishes and recognizes writers of diverse genres, artists and community builders. Recently he was awarded the "Poets Without Borders Peace Award." by The World Peace Poets for his leadership of WIN – Writers International Network Canada and his journeys across the globe to celebrate poetry and collaborate with poets of the world.