Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 4, Number 2. November 2021. ISSN: 2581-7094
--- Mahathi
The frozen blood is
still alive and warm
in cold Siberian
tundras. The beat
of winds still smells
the roasted human meat
of those who thought
that death was better balm.
And at Tiananmen square
the deadly calm
still echos roars of
tanks with blasting heat
of darted cannonballs
running to greet
of innocent students who
sensed no harm.
Though doomed, this
devil's sperm still lives within
the civil
world spreading their evil genes
on earth to keep
aloud their loony din.
These goons lo never
give up try'ng to spin
their death
machines. But keeps rolling with sheens
our Dharma Chakra; love
as its lynchpin!
How Can I Describe
--- Mahathi
Didn't see thee Lord
with eyes, nor smelled thy scent.
I never heard thy voice
nor touched thy skin.
But felt thy grace in
deep silence and din.
How can explain this all
in world's accent?
I try a word, a phrase,
an apt comment...
I search for idioms, and
try to spin
neology in
burning earthly klin
To invent cant or
expression, nascent.
But human school is all
about the tight
Study of gathered dust
into a tome.
They read and breed in
hearts the gnawing blight
Of blasphemy, that soots
the benign light
Inside and miss the
cues of prompting Om!
Aye let me save for now
this odd insight.
Reticent Woods
(Formal verse in iambic
pentameter)
--- Mahathi
The woods are
reticent...oh why today...
The birds aren't
switching boughs and chirping sweet!
The violent winds that
whirred at river bay
like triumphant warriors
of winning fleet
why spinning idly 'round
the Banyan's feet?!
The little buds of
sylvan grass it seemed
decided never to blossom
in life.
The long racemes of
fragrant lillies leaned
on neighbor trees as if
they're swayed by strife;
as played the bamboo
bushes mournful fifes.
Below a screwpine grove
I saw a snake
in long parlay with one
mongoose and there
at bay, an eagle
gossip'ng with a drake.
There's fear in every
eye...from lion to mare...
as if watching some
horrific nightmare!
The woods echoed with
sudden howls of wolves
on hills; birds flitted
with clamorous tweets
in sky and the
honeybees buzzed out of hives
to swarm the meadows
green. With raucous bleats
as deer sprinted, the
bears squatted effete.
The leaves ruffled with
rasping sounds as if
honing their blades for
imminent fight; as got
ready the flowers frail
for petty tiffs!
On whom declared they
war...this static lot...
I wondered...oh with
swords can fight faggots?!
When heard were chugs of
engines running slow,
loud honks of horns and
thuds of falling trees.
The air was filled with
burning diesel flow.
And lo, a din of vulgar
laughs from leas
echoed, garroting woody
threnodies!
Lone Dove
--- Mahathi
That one last dove was
standing on the spire;
with darting eyes and
head espying sides!
She kept watching the
crackling bones in fire
around the mosque! Is
she or not afraid!?
She never heard such
sound nor saw such dense
vapours with noxious
smell of nitramine.
It seems she's saved by
the bliss of ignorance,
to stay alive to watch
that ghastly scene.
An year ago, she broke
out of the shell;
on this same spire and
this's her home, her world!
Some times she perched
on nearby temple bell;
pecked some Prashaad and
played with other birds.
And often flew a little
far to kiss
the cross on Baptist
church and hear the choirs!
She thought, like her,
the world was fair with bliss!
Can any God enjoy such
cruel satire?!
With fright her claws
tightened around the stones.
"Is there a
religion to kill, Allah?!"
She moaned. "Isn't
there one God whom everyone owns!"
The crescent Moon
mumbled: "This's not my law!"
I Wait With Smiles
--- Mahathi
Into my dreams he comes
and hugs me tight.
When I awake, he slips
into my heart.
He flashes like a
star at dim twilight
and at midnight dips
like a meteor hot.
On moonless nights while
walking all alone
pensive; deep dwelling
in his thoughts, I feel
his hands around my
waist... smell his cologne
and sense his slowly
grasping bosom steel.
I ask the glow'ng
fireflies, beseech the deer
and beg the owls
standing on sandy mound
whether they saw my
beau, afar or near
and eavesdrop for his
silent footsteps' sound.
He's miles away, I know
behind my piles
of muse. I feign poise
veiling fading smiles.