Poetry: Please comment!

Dear wonderful readers,
Arkaydass Chaudhary, a newly-published poet sent me a sample of his poems for perusal. He is anxious to hear reader comments. I know that many of you are sensitive/spiritual/knowledgeable in a variety of subjects and I know that he would love to hear what all of you have to say. Thank you!

The Grass Flower

For years
I have been walking
On the familiar
And not-so-familiar
Paths of the city.
The hissing of the
High-tech automobiles,
The rustle of the brisk feet
On the cemented pavement,
The whispers and whistle loud
Of the traffic policeman,
Reach my ears
And the extra-redness of gulmohar
Hits my eyes.
Over the years
I have not cared
Or, perhaps dared
To discover
You, the pretty flower of the grass,
Which suddenly I behold
In full-bloom
During a season-less time
At my backyard.
As time changes its shade
Dusty and sweaty days
Get fossilized into
Unidentified pages of history,
Starry and lonely nights
Evaporate together
With the morning dew-drops,
You, miniature grass-flower
Metamorphose before my eyes
Into the significant dimension
Of Krishna’s cosmic image
Full of ethereal sublimity
And earthly fragrance.

You pervade
The vastness of my world
My sky, my dream
In a helpless moment.


The Cactus

Imagine me
A solitary and ostracized
Vegetative cell
Of a barren loin
On a limitless sandy habitat,
Where my tender dreams
Was sprouted.
I was dazed in my virgin dream
On being tossed
By the seasonal onslaught
Of blinding wind and winter
And sweeping shadows
Under a looming barren sky.

Between unending moments
I felt the primordial thirst
On my thorny throat,
With which sooner
I got myself familiarized.

I have touched with my palm
The surface of the damp Moon
On a naked firmament,
Playing her ancient game
Of hide and seek
On a periodic pattern.

During lingering nights,
Waiting on a forlorn hope,
I have also seen
The hollow and waterless
Eyes of the Pole Star
Nurturing in every blink
A fraction of a dream
Of a pregnant cloud
And pining for the chaotic drops
Of an earthy monsoon.
Me, having loneliness
For a company eternal
And parched to the core
In the midst of a tropical May,
Waiting on my toes
For the breath and whisper
Of an Indian Sawan.


NIRVAN

I am bewildered in the
Solitude of wilderness
At the anguished feminine eloquence,
Being reduced defencelessly
Into a stony mass.

The wind among the reeds
Takes a terrified-halt
As the sobbing crane
Becomes an eternal metaphor
Of the ascetic’s poetic tremor.

In the royal orchard,
I have seen fear
In the pathetic eyes
Of a feathered soul
From the Prince’s lap
Pleading for instant nirvan.