October's Sun...
I will take a dip in the Umiam lake
in October's sun,
where silhouetted against
sky blues, little birds
waft into a sojourn,
the rain-washed bodies
in plenitude will seek the
winter of respite, the trees
will lean against backdrop
of mists, till they whirl
a fantasy.
Leaves will preen into
golden autumn hues
and the roads be bystanders
to traffic.
A little home, children will
saturate in this sun.
October's days, in the mellowed
sun will wait patiently.
For winter.
For a thousand clarion calls.
Doorsteps...
At doorsteps is love
waiting for you
requited, love of hands,
feet and faces;
many eyed, love of
the flower in my hands
cupped for a wait.
A marigold dream
the tree of so many
ablutions, so many
purposes to serve,
to wait for a love
of reclusive dreams,
a torment of the storm
passing by the sea of clammy
quiet. To wait.
The sea is not troubled today
only waits, only licks lips
only is a bystander to
the love of a storm,
which eludes a doorstep
where we are waiting.
Come adorn me with a thorn
let this only be a passing wait.
Doorsteps are many, ruinous-
archetypal, history's unlettered
truth of crumbling remains.
Ananya S. Guha lives in Shillong in North East India and works in the Indira Gandhi National Open University. He has four collections of poetry to his credit. In addition, his poems have appeared in four anthologies of poetry, and several print/online magazines such as Indian Literature, Kavya Bharati, Chandrabhaga, The Telegraph, Femina, New Quest, Journal Of Indian Writing In English, The Statesman, Poesis, Poetry Chronicle, New Welsh Review, Glasgow Review, Osprey Journal, Gloom Cupboard, Muse India, etc. He also writes for newspapers and magazines on education and subjects of general interest.
I will take a dip in the Umiam lake
in October's sun,
where silhouetted against
sky blues, little birds
waft into a sojourn,
the rain-washed bodies
in plenitude will seek the
winter of respite, the trees
will lean against backdrop
of mists, till they whirl
a fantasy.
Leaves will preen into
golden autumn hues
and the roads be bystanders
to traffic.
A little home, children will
saturate in this sun.
October's days, in the mellowed
sun will wait patiently.
For winter.
For a thousand clarion calls.
Doorsteps...
At doorsteps is love
waiting for you
requited, love of hands,
feet and faces;
many eyed, love of
the flower in my hands
cupped for a wait.
A marigold dream
the tree of so many
ablutions, so many
purposes to serve,
to wait for a love
of reclusive dreams,
a torment of the storm
passing by the sea of clammy
quiet. To wait.
The sea is not troubled today
only waits, only licks lips
only is a bystander to
the love of a storm,
which eludes a doorstep
where we are waiting.
Come adorn me with a thorn
let this only be a passing wait.
Doorsteps are many, ruinous-
archetypal, history's unlettered
truth of crumbling remains.
Ananya S. Guha lives in Shillong in North East India and works in the Indira Gandhi National Open University. He has four collections of poetry to his credit. In addition, his poems have appeared in four anthologies of poetry, and several print/online magazines such as Indian Literature, Kavya Bharati, Chandrabhaga, The Telegraph, Femina, New Quest, Journal Of Indian Writing In English, The Statesman, Poesis, Poetry Chronicle, New Welsh Review, Glasgow Review, Osprey Journal, Gloom Cupboard, Muse India, etc. He also writes for newspapers and magazines on education and subjects of general interest.
