Come like a monsoon shower… drench me,
I am cracking under my arid loneliness.
Memories, like babies, wake up at random hours.
I am tired of babysitting my avid loneliness.
True, wars turn men into heroes, legends.
Yet in Troy, Achilles rues victorious, rabid loneliness.
Americans tell me, India’s too crowded for comfort.
I reply: your US is a nation of unrequited loneliness.
Walking alone, I find new ponds of verses.
How words flow in to fill my gifted loneliness!
Emperor Shah Jahan sits imprisoned facing Taj Mahal.
Imagine imperial thoughts, feel his sordid loneliness!
Millions talk to moon about their distant lovers.
How moon suffers in phases, his clouded loneliness.
Lakshman in exile, in temples, accompanies Sita-Ram.
Wonder why Urmila is exiled to an unquoted loneliness?
Ninety nine percent of universe is empty space.
It is God’s whim. He supplied perpetual, vapid loneliness.
Trust me, I easily adapt to companions.
But why divorce my time-tested loneliness?
Vivek: Why is poet alone, & poesy, a solitary art?
Poetry is a universe churned out of turbid loneliness.
PUBLISHED FIRST IN MUSE INDIA
I am cracking under my arid loneliness.
Memories, like babies, wake up at random hours.
I am tired of babysitting my avid loneliness.
True, wars turn men into heroes, legends.
Yet in Troy, Achilles rues victorious, rabid loneliness.
Americans tell me, India’s too crowded for comfort.
I reply: your US is a nation of unrequited loneliness.
Walking alone, I find new ponds of verses.
How words flow in to fill my gifted loneliness!
Emperor Shah Jahan sits imprisoned facing Taj Mahal.
Imagine imperial thoughts, feel his sordid loneliness!
Millions talk to moon about their distant lovers.
How moon suffers in phases, his clouded loneliness.
Lakshman in exile, in temples, accompanies Sita-Ram.
Wonder why Urmila is exiled to an unquoted loneliness?
Ninety nine percent of universe is empty space.
It is God’s whim. He supplied perpetual, vapid loneliness.
Trust me, I easily adapt to companions.
But why divorce my time-tested loneliness?
Vivek: Why is poet alone, & poesy, a solitary art?
Poetry is a universe churned out of turbid loneliness.
PUBLISHED FIRST IN MUSE INDIA
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