Evening's Sweetheart

Evening's Sweetheart

There lived a girl

Not well that I knew

Perpetually trapped in evening

Always spangled in apricot hue 

Sunsets from different worlds

Carefully she amassed

Days, seasons and years went by

But the bloody evening never passed

Everyday was like mornings at whorehouse 

Mysterious but delightfully calm

She never really saw starry night

As she held infinite suns in her palm

It happened one evening

I noticed her presence vast

Waited till night to wake up from the dream

But the bloody evening never passed

Love accompanied the nights

Dreams accompanied the days

But the poor evening had no company

Other than the dying sun's rays

Love replaced my art

Poetry became a thing of past

A thousand beats skipped my heart

But the bloody evening never passed

On one such evening 

A poem she scribbled

And a poet was born

With the words she dribbled

Before the poet could breathe

A love-spell was cast

She wanted to finish her poem by twilight

But the bloody evening never passed

The desolation of the afterglow

Made her to create a company

The poet was her created muse

So that he can write her a symphony

I was born to amuse her

So this poem I wrote at last

I wanted to die with her in dark

But the bloody evening never passed

- Salil Bhat 

Divinations of a caterpillar

The vision of diurnal course

When the cock crows in coarse

Makes the sky convulse in lavender hue

As the blade of grass shelters the morning dew

The dew drops cluster in a mother-of-pearl state

I have been drunk on that glorious pearly gate

I have consumed the light’s infinite source

I have done no harm and I seek no remorse

I glide gently through this realm of green

Just like Venus tours the twilight screen

What lies beyond that twig is a celestial thought

My delicate body celebrates spring when leaves start to rot

I wait, fearless, in grace, for my divine flight

I only fear the stars as they scream at night

I bide my time till I manifest myself in a shell

Where I shall sleep for eternity under nature’s spell

And then, on the tightrope of hope, shall I stride

I shall fear no Gods in this godless ride

What awaits at the end of this great divide?

An angelic butterfly or a moth undignified?

But under no circumstances shall my wings hide

For creatures who fly; only in flying lies the pride.

- Salil Bhat

Unstuck

But then again, who am I to feel pity

For that smudge of grey where wit ceases to be witty.

Ah! That marvelous smudge of grey!

That rhyme of blue and canto of yellow.

Dark! Like the song of morbid lark.

Agonizing and tantalizing taste of mellow.

He sculpts words and brews emotions.

I hereby share my intimidation and confusions

Of his untimely motions

I beg your pardon, a bad habit of mine.

I forgot to introduce myself.

I am a mere word that flows in a line.

Some people simply call me “time”.

Yes, some people. Not all. At least not him.

Neither he shares my flow nor does he sail in my river.

His tumultuous flow makes his sails quiver.

What sorcery might have conjured his creation?

 Like a painting that lacks translation.

Colors, he sings and flavors he writes.

Such is his darkness, flickering in lights.

And such is his art!

He is art!

He is a metaphor of himself.

Like a creation for sake of itself.

Watch his heart as it beats in a rhyme.

This poet is unstuck in time.

And now I shall unveil this obscure hymn.

The truth is that I am unstuck in him.

- Salil Bhat

*~Time's note: Time is unstuck in poet. Not the other way around.~*