Friday, March 1, 2019



(Tessalated prose poem)

The modern windows have beautiful designed blinds made of chosen fabrics that hide the beauty or ugliness of the outside views . The Nature is faked or landscapes are woven or digital prints imprinted on the texture according to the taste of the interior decorator or the master of the house. The modern living has cloned everything possible to create an ambience suitable to create an atmosphere of corrupted happiness.  Humans don't want to look outside their closed minds and want everyone to behave according to their whims and caprice. There is a raging ambition only to earn money and display this in their material possessions.  The children are bought by gifts or paid to obey and respect their elders . The parents or grandparents bribe their children to love them by treating them to their desires of goods , toys , clothes and other accessories.  The mall is a great place for family gatherings where the younger learns to get the best bargains and elders eat outside so there is need to earn surplus money . A vicious chain of spending and earning like demand and supply is embedded  in the tapestry of modern living. Branded products are the craze of this ever hungry generation . On the other hand people are dying of hunger and starvation.  Hunger rules all lives , some for money and ironically some for real food. The winter has settled in the heart of the cold children , where love and kindness has been replaced by greed . The festivals lack the fervour of togetherness and bonding . It is now more of a ritual of wrapped gift giving and receiving . The more expensive the gift ,bigger is the genuine smile  and hugging. I have lost interest in giving and receiving such gifts , therefore lost touch with many of my relatives and kindred. We all have to pay a price for our authentic existence to keep the blinds either inside or outside .

Blind Alley

The alley of lovers is blind as she rides on sensual dreams of passion and pleasure. She swirls and circles like clouds in hope of swallowing a  rainbow of smiles touching horizons. Sometimes it flies on tides of rapturous emotions on nebulous slides of thoughts and themes. The moon in reverie is espying on dimensional zones of crossroads where it has multiple choice of reviews. The Esplanade offers previews to the beach and calm shores in summer night. The golden night glides and guides the intruders to the explicit views via doors of generosity.  The exquisite love of unrequited soul soars high on the moonbeam of prayers to find a mountain shoulder to lean on. The cries and wailing of forgotten lovers waiting for healing in graveyards ,where fresh flowers are fragrant . The blind alley listens to the blind beggar singing erratically for his sleeping companion to wake up . The only distraction is the excessive horning of the new driver who is hopping and popping in every unknown  corner of this narrow turning. The background is a fusion of cobblestone and lampost  flickering due to fluctuation of scenes . The raw feeling of the blushing dawn is pink with shame as it can perceive all the illusion created in the darkness of night. The sparks of noisy sparrows react at the dandy big birds flapping their wings in open sky. The birth of a new day leads to disappointment of many  nights of endless yearning.

Blind Tree

The blind tree of winter is totally devoid of any clothing . It stands splendidly in its nakedness like a starved , famished being completely unaware of its impression. The toned body is reddened by hard labour to fight against the cold west winds . It is still kind enough to let the birds hop on its branches and claw on to it , although it bleeds . The redness swells to form an artful form of whirlpools which is a gummy sweet for children and birds. The magnanimity of the tree is sight less and taken for granted like the grandparents . The Spring will replenish it's leaves and it will be more comfortable in sightseeing. But the Sun will become more penetrating as the shade will hide the beauty of the grass and flowers growing beneath it. The Winter Sun never gets to see the threads of affection spreading under the damp old body of this ghost of a tree.The blindness is a light that enlightens hope in many dark hearts .

( Tessellated prose poem )

Listen to the song of breeze in the silent night of remote past . The lamenting stream seeks the blue river lost in deep loneliness of the Amazon rainforest . The blind valley got lost waltzing one day with the wild flowers . The terracotta army walked in blindfolded with blood and trampled along the coast line vast . Array of thorny shrubs cut into halves still survived the agony pierced in their hearts . Drops of dews cried as the petals had no place to be buried in the graveyards of the sea. The barriers were broken of the tormented shores as the fury of the winds turned to enormous tears and thundered . The lightning took pity and burnt the valley of flowers to a barren desert . All habitation shrunk in a hole and disappeared in a cave which shut it's doors forever. In the cradle of solitude crystalline tears are embedded on the broken wings of the mighty mountain where valley sacrificed its existence for peace

Lost Star

In remote mists of doubts dawns twilight in transition of glowing gold.  The aroma of dreams cradles as the lost sight of the night. A distant star lost in the velvety evening remotely shines shyly sinking. The restlessness of the stardust pious bending enlivens the sky bed.Unveiled Moon sparkling smiles as the wind adorns the waves in a gush . The solemn oath of love crowning the stars finds a way for their lost stars in the ocean of perfections.  Reminiscences of their birth has a secret ceremony recording the celestial celebrations. The key to the disappointment of disappearance lies somewhere in between the words of Sun and Moon. Stars like the poets write to reach phenomenal heights in the pandemonium of chaotic darkness. All stars twinkling in the firmament while a lonely one in separation dangling in magnificence.The darkest nights brings back the artist star back to its original glory.  The portrait is then adorned by this single star on the forehead of the blue sky . The fleecy clouds then lament in pitch darkness of sight less dreams . The sky embellished from top to toe by the sandy horizon glitters to launch the masterpiece of the lost star before the Sun illuminates another massacre of the innocents on Earth.

Lost Rhythm

Life is always full of sweet rhythms scripting the story on pages of history before we die. Memories flow in the hymns of breathing songs of breeze in snow. Sighs of journey halt in a lyrical show and let go off the past miseries stored.Drops of dews in darkness swing to change the day in radiance of wings . A bawdy virgin like sunshine rises to be danced upon by  trumpets call placing her intuitive charms in selfless harps. The sapling woods in sounds and scents bring showers of promise from Heaven above . The angels rejoice and sing on stars in unexpected scholarly music of arms. The minstrels scream a chorus fighting the fading light erasing fiction of the night. The shield and sword create echoes of chivalry of backyard battles long gone. The colours of forest breathes in unreachable curves lost in the deserts of velvety expectations . The naïve song is on a noble quest yearning for a grand conquest.  Blinded in the trap of modern panorama lacking rhyme or reason for any campaign . Love engraved in hearts of lovers lost its rhythm in saxophone wilderness tracing petals on ghosts of wind pipes.

The mystery of life is in the labyrinth of my soul which is a wonder to gaze upon in complete solitude of my existence. From deep inside in solitary moments speaks the voice that resonates and whispers the beauty of truth  . A faint silence of infinite knowledge emerges from the silhouette of imperceptible past of centuries layered to emerge when called upon. The memories of a millennium etched forever are not lost but irrecoverable within to solve all pain and suffering in fragments of faith .My soul steadily stays mute till beckoned with invincible spirit of hope and grace.It is always in union with love and understanding of a loving presence .The timeless essence of the portrait of the soul stands tall in a stupor of spiritual consciousness. We humans swim adrift until the eternal evanescence of light within show us the path inwards to our selfless beats of divine presence . And then in a flash of an epiphany intersects and scatters the innumerable dialogues that takes place in mystery of darkness . The indefinite sea of words are meaningless for communication. This beautiful connection was never lost nor gone . It was all the time happening , calling in moments of enlightenment in sublime silence.


(A prose poem )

From childhood I recollected and relived  the moments I savoured with my grandparents , cousins or friends . I cherished the hugs and gifts of kindness much later like a beautiful dream lived . Even now I am suspended in the moment , flickering images evanesced with time. How passionately we love everything that is temporary and  transitory , that cannot last. The dazzling crystallory of Winter, the fresh blooms of Spring, the lilies of Summer, the flights of glowing worms on rainy nights . The first kiss of love , flirting eyes , a pat on the back, a hug by a beautiful stranger and life of fragile flights of butterflies. Deep within us , there remains a sense of nostalgia for that moment gone , that instant of euphony and blossoming . An exquisite moment where we lived outside the mundane and ordinary .Nostalgia hovering precariously in open space, caged forever in the subconscious as whirlwind of memories piercing in solitude. When we lived beyond time and space, beyond any law of the Universe. A breaking upon the interminable cosmic dance to experience moments of intensity ,almost reckless euphoria. It is the moment of intoxication with life.
Jyotirmaya Thakur @copyright reserved.


I have a strong urge to fly with the wind or float like the fallen leaves to unknown destinations. Seeing a sunrise I want to turn crimson and be filled with golden sunlight . As I see the birds in a line flying back home at dusk , I want to go home too. I want to fly freely on airless wings very high to see what the sky looks like above the clouds . I want to abandon the dark shadows of life to unlock the mystery of another world where only pure ecstasy resides . My heart believes in such a world of pure love untarnished by any fate or karma. I want to find bliss living consciously attached to only to the present moment untainted by past sorrows or pain. I want to be a different person untouched by unrequited love or rejection of being unwanted . I want to feel the chaos of the mind without trepidation or fear of the unknown. I want to drink the water of crystal springs to become immortal and not fear death . I want to explore the mystery of life and write the history of death to make it mortal. I want to catch the exquisite moments of childhood curiosity and courage to do the impossible. I  want to flow like a river in moonbeams in the heart of wild forests . I want to see a spider lily bloom in the night and dance with the stars . And despite my shadows of loneliness  I suddenly cry in inexplicable pleasure of a nostalgic experience of sonata .
Jyotirmaya Thakur @copyright reserved.


JYOTIRMAYA THAKUR: Author of twelve original Poetry books , Jyotirmaya Thakur is the first Indian born poetess to be published by Real Vision Aspirant Writers Publication,UK. An award winning author and poet ,she has served as a Vice -Principal (retired ) of an International school in India, an editor, reviewer, researcher, columnist,public speaker, Reiki Master , Spiritual and social activist. She is currently Project Head and Chief editor of East India for Impish Lass Publication. She is the President of Prose Poetry Writers Group of -ARCS- magazine,National Director of Public Relations and Communications of Union Hispano Mundial de Escritores ,Peru,in India . Chief counsellor of Telangana Poetry forum ,administrator of 16, member of jury of 7 and invited as judge for English Co -curricular activities in schools & colleges .An executive member of the educational magazine LITERATI and a columnist. She is a member of Wolf International Poetry Exhibition group of UK, where her poems are exhibited in various art galleries, Literary clubs and  public places .

No comments :

Post a Comment