Dear Glacier

Dear Glacier,

Heaven give me the sweet poison 
dare if I stop you.
Sweet poison 
distilled from the morning dew on angel's bosom
care if I touch you.
Man is not a man
lest his dry hand
adhere with your cold manifestation crystalline
and pleasure the shock so sublime
to freeze the manliness in your spine.
And then let us dine.
You serve to devour 
and I bring some wine. 
And let me move and take a chance. 
Let me be ever rambling like your unstoppable dance. 
And I will trade an inch for a tick.
So puzzle me and treat me a trick.
Are you a beauty or time ?
Your ceaseless shifting with grace divine.
And how can you be a poet's muse?
Killing the artist in cold 
leaving the death to amuse.
And that grim reaper left awestruck 
cursed with the poet's luck
For he knows not that this divine daughter
turns even a stone into a poet 
with a sight of her chilly slaughter 
Then put a wager on me and see me rhyme
So I can gamble with you and succumb to your crime 
And let me perish and pay 
a visit to heaven if I may
Then I will enjoy that sweet poison 
with the ticks I traded
And greet you again some summer
warm and faded.

~ Poet's note: " Timeless beauty " is an oxymoron ~

Quartz

Quartz

The quartz rattles, strapped in leather

They say tis’ getting warm, not the weather

The wicker rocks on the Venetian Waltz

A cradle not of child but a bygone quartz

What a pity to be born; what a shame to die

What a pleasure to pen this on a bourbon high

Pleasure it is my friend, to listen the quartz fly

Between the first cry and last sigh

In this ward of life, the visitors are the seasons

Wishing you false hope with rains of reasons

They greet you in turns

Placing on the side table, their fruits and flowers

Pineapples in snow and oranges in showers

But alas my friend

This salt and pepper head is too seasoned

For technicolour radio and age of the reasoned

To ye fresh flesh charioteers I say

Think of me not what I may

Wheels of quartz run those chariots you ride

Ever rambling, ever moving forward, an unstoppable tide

Waits for none, carries but itself, regardless of effort you make

The tracks it leaves behind is the only thing you may take

And soon the tracks be gone and chariot out of sight

Out of mind will depart the mind and itself from itself might

Crooked nihilist, I am not, of what you think I may

Walk those tracks while ye may, is all I have to say

The humble snail leaves behind

What Parisians in Gauloises find

A lustrous track of drunken blood

Of misfit meals and the generation flood

What happened to those who made it happen

The flattening soda and  rock n roll autumn

What of the lost souls that are no longer lost

Found in niches like ice in frost

The harvest of season past

Shall mock the shiny seeds at last

And yet the farmer reaps on so fine

So that a distant table in peace can dine

So, dear friend, I am here to say

Befriend the scythe and unrecalled hay

Epochs pass like night and day

But the jingle of quartz is here to stay

Eventide

Sunset (or eventide) is one of the most beautiful gifts of nature. This poem is an empathy of Sunset. It objectifies Sunset as an entity which feels for a human sitting under a chestnut tree. There are certain strings attached between humans and sunset. On human end of the string we find sunset  comforting and beautiful. On the other end of string the Sunset finds.....  

Defeated maybe I; yet I caress thee 

Drowning in this bottomless line; just like thou painted me  

As I intertwine with this century old chestnut tree 

By which thou art resting solitary  

I touch this nature’s furrowed paw 

And feel a century of scars on this wooden scree.  

As I embrace this grassy nature’s skin 

Unto which thou art resting solitary 

I get a sensation so akin 

As infinite blades of grass fit in infinite pores of my skin  

Defeated maybe I; yet I caress thee

Entity of past will be I soon; leaving behind this gentle golden sea

  

And yet in thee I find nothing to feel 

As I stroke thy skin and everything underneath 

What enigmatic broth doth thy soul conceal? 

Which my placid touch is unable to heal

  

Amongst the familiar voices, a whisper of air thou art 

Reticent to the pathos is thy alienated heart  

And yet I glide towards thee for intangible reasons  

As I perceive in thee a thousand summer seasons

   

Defeated maybe I; yet I caress thee 

I am defeated every day and yet I can never foresee

  

Thou gaze at me as if thou art breathing me 

As thy lungs get filled with my soothing gleam 

Solitude has hollowed thy soul as I caress thee 

I can feel thy presence as feeble as a fleeting dream 

Though thy presence be void unlike grass and chestnut tree 

But this eternal pact with solitude will set you free 

And now, I am defeated by dusk and farewell I bid thee 

This solitary air dissolves you as the horizon dissolves me 

- Salil Bhat