When Life Beckons

Published in Muse India: Issue 36 Mar - Apr 2011

I soar like an albatross,

eastward ; where vacant archipelagos 

and inflated magma chambers,

spew fecundity with confidence. 

 

I gravitate to forgotten heritage sites,

And discover forsaken villages.

I expedite to catch the sunset view,

of man-made and natural wonders.

 

I dive into depths of severe oceans,

For hidden mysteries to uncover, 

Breathless: I shiver, to feel my carnal predators 

in thrilling close encounters.

 

I test vertical limits of physical tolerance,

And free-fall with peregrine precision,

I trick gravity and launch my chute

Before raging adrenaline gives in.

 

In search of my inner oblivion

I migrate to scour new terrains.

I canvass untreaded, forlorn paths

only to feel, share and experience.   

 

As I backpack on aimless traveller trails

discovering and unlearning fiction,

I spurn fear and embolden the mind, 

to continue on the next exciting mission.

 

 

A Matter of Fact!

Published in Muse India: Issue 36 Mar - Apr 2011

One seeks to discover meaning,

in twice-removed subtleties of life,  

through a skilful mining of morphed metaphors,

while decoding the quaint and rife.  

Sceptics argue in eloquent prose

or justify emboldened strategies,

vague belief becomes an approved truth

and we nod in hidden anomalies.

‘The universally acknowledged truth’:

was Austen’s reflection on Victorian mind,

the mighty scabs on the fairer sex,

were to empower womankind.

But Freuds ruthless theories,

caved in on Feminist afterthought

and Ptolemy’s skewed notion of the universe

changed man’s own focal plot.

In this human quest to seek clarity

How far can we trust any source?

Its but natural to find subjectivity and doubt

weaved in an answer’s arduous course.

Rajashree Anand

His Muse

Strained by frustrating forgetfulness

he shakes his ink pen & wants to write.

He waits for his muse to appear,

but nowhere is he in sight.

Without his fugitive sprite

no words can be lucid or clear,

so he curses his pen :“I said write!”

to budge his stubborn reflexes.

Has insomnia got him too?

Why does he nowadays abscond?

He blinks at his ancient fingers,

and sighs at his fading bond.

But there in his memory far & beyond

that slighting elf slithers,

he dances with that hideous blonde

in Hitchcock’s bemusing clues! 


Rajashree Anand


(An old man / poet wants to write a poem. But, his inspiration/idea/muse leaves him and he finally finds it.)
Rhyme scheme : ABCB BCBA....