Storm over waters
In a ravaging gale
As tempests descend
On ignited lives of men
Adventure seekers, roamers
Of wildness and wilderness
In rocky boats they sail
On voyages they say
To fulfill raging souls
Whatever price to pay!
Voyage
Insomnia
Pebbles, then ripples
On open waters
Aimless thoughts drift
As a discarded twig;
Cannot sink, forced to swim
On a sleepless eyelid!
August
Let the clouds unveil
Desirous fiestas in blue
In delicious azure hues
Let me savor summer
Shining through dewdrops
Cover myself in crystals
Pouring from the skies
Indulge in the petrichor
Capture the essence
Of rain-soaked colors
Burnt umber in the glare
Of the monsoon sun
For August is here;
Can autumn be far behind?
Impermanence
When lightning strikes
Mountains disintegrate
Into a million pebbles;
Amidst stone crumbles
And broken boulders
Our miserable souls
Ruminate the futility
Of seeking permanence
In an unsteady world
Scrumptious Orange Evenings
When a parched Delhi was craving to embrace rain clouds, the evenings were aglow in anticipation. Ramit Mitra of Delhi by Foot (DBF) adventures, shared this photograph of the city skyline with a comment that Delhi evenings are becoming beautiful again. The orange was endearing enough to make me write a verse.
Rain-laden clouds
In a lavish sunset
Scoop up, savor with delight
Scrumptious orange jelly
Soothing, trickling slowly
Into crucible of the night
Rain Clouds
An opening in the skies
From which the sun spies
On a downy morning
An arrangement of feathers
Clouds waiting to rain gently
Fireflies
Wistful swirl of tiny wishes
Like embers of a dying bonfire
Today a sparkle, ashes tomorrow
Unspoken, unmet, broken yet
Alive, throbbing in a heart
That still believes in fireflies!
Fallen from the Map
Some day they will wonder
Where did all the people go?
With their dreams and deeds
Now rust and patina buried deep
Entangled in moss and froth
Was it life incomplete
Or how it was meant to be?
They find a tiffin box with
Remnants of a meal
A torn cloth – a shroud or veil
Who will tell?
Buried under the turmoil
A lost city of yore
Fallen from the map
How did it plummet so low!
The Armageddon or Apocalypse
Poisoned air or men at war?
How long to wipe out
Another city, another life;
Push a tribe from the brink
How long after we ignore
Lessons of the dead of lore?
Brilliant Strokes
When you seek beauty and bliss, it seeks you out in return, in its myriad forms. After writing about Shreyan’s creativity, I came across another brilliant, young artist. Ansh Batra, a 14-year old boy, delves mostly in abstract paintings on acrylic. Ansh started painting in his early years and has found refuge and expression in shapes and colors.
A kaleidoscope of colors, the paintings bring cheer and joy. Sometimes, they also reflect inner chaos and jumbled visions, as the artist seeks answers. Whatever be the medium, a work of art can be interpreted in several ways and Ansh’s work resonated with some verses in my archives.
Just waves in the sea
Dewdrops on a petal
Clouds pregnant with rain
Life in motion, fluid, pristine
Souls waiting to be free
Musings by ANEESHA SHEWANI
There is no apology
For being simply you
A yellow leaf
Is pretty still
In verdant foliage
A sign of autumn
In a life well-lived
MUSINGS BY ANEESHA SHEWANI
The kiss of a setting sun
On the lips of a dying day
A final blush, an orange glow
Before a black shroud
Covers the last ray
MUSINGS by ANEESHA SHEWANI
Dreams explode
Under the pressure
Of restless nights
They now float free
From my eyelid to yours
In triumphant audacity
Musings by ANEESHA SHEWANI
Ansh is a special child with autism. His art has received the unconditional love and blessings of his parents. Anshul, his mother, with utmost humility says that Ansh is learning to work with colors and canvas and will continue to learn all his life. A preview of Ansh’s work is available on his Facebook page managed by Anshul.
With unpretentious and dedicated pursuit of his passion for different strokes, Ansh has showcased his work in 43 exhibitions. His paintings have found global affection with more than 400 paintings adorning the homes of patrons in India, Canada, German, Dubai, and Hong Kong. He has been featured in newspapers and regularly participates in art competitions. His work reflects the depth of the caption in a Facebook video that features his artistic method – “We’re all little broken; last time I checked broken crayons still color.”
Wings of a Human
If I could fly
What feathers to adorn;
A tint of pearl
A hint of zircon
Fragment of an angel
Sliver of the Devil
Shades of spring
Depths of autumn
Silver of a dandelion
Gold blush of dawn
Intricately woven
As wings of a human
To cross the far horizon!
