By
Gopal Lahiri
Commitment
This morning forecast lacks commitment
In the shade of clouds,
The lilt of a tiny bird,
The first notes heard in the blue,
Mother Nature comes short.
We stroll on the long shell beach
After exhausting all our early morning energy,
Searching for mollusks and brachiopods,
In filigree rich golden yellow sand
At every opportunity,
We settle for a lonely corner.
Wait and watch for the tall waves
To submerge our tin-wrapped soul,
Until the white sand beddings get used to
Peptide chain finger printing,
We preserve the ripple marks and current history.
Dismal overhaul our search and discovery
Dipped at its lowest azimuth,
Rustle past murmur of defoliation,
And Fail to connect any dots for rain prints,
Our movements are sluggish.
It is with a heavy heart
We walk back slowly to our resort lounge
And start to sip black coffee over a newspaper
That rare feel with gene manipulation and blatant lies,
Ready to throw more gasoline in fiery mind.
Unhurried Music
We do not know where it ends.
At home we never talk about hungry tides and footprints
perhaps a reason,
that keeps us burning,
Because it makes sense,
We always float like a summer leaf before the dry winds.
The shining stars with their messy speeds
and energy
look for a hint of a curved moon
Walking on a trinket shop
We never wait to get upstairs to sing a love song.
Now the light of the orange vapour lamp hit
the water of the narrow canal.
we know what it means to be resting on each other.
For a moment between the two eager souls,
echo from a fort wall
breaks into tiniest pieces
And evoke a sense of unhurried music.
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