Precarious Thoughts

Precarious Thoughts

My soul trims down and

Becomes a single thread

By pecking and plucking

Words separate the tangles

On the much sharpened edge

Between meaning and inanity

Between sense and inner sense

At precarious moments

Swings and sways the thoughts

If that peels off and drops down

The fall will shake up this universe

Thoughts drenched in the downpour

On earth have been swollen and heavy

An oil lamp on the veranda of the soul

And the oil that is being burnt up in it

Invigorate and enliven the flames

On the stage that is dimmed up with

Flimsy flames and cold breeze.

By Ismail Meladi

Accident

Split the moment into hundred

And take one among them

Build a bridge across the life,

Slimmer than the hair

That is divided into hundred

Place a needle on top of it,

Of coincidence, unexpectedness,

Of impuissance, selfishness, or

Of anything…

And now,

The fate would be arriving

As an uninvited guest

It would perform a dance

On the edge of the needle

Not just a dance,

A dance of devastation,

And the destruction

Would be occurring

Underneath the bridge

It will become topsy-turvy

The least expected would be

A huge displacement of things.

By Ismail Meladi

Mutilated word

Life is a set of

Mutilated words

The words of life

That have lost order

Needs a symphony

Of solace on flute

To weld them up

In the fire of love

But, here, they are so disfigured

That it is difficult to distinguish

Between vowels and consonants

The words have lost

Their lines and curves

But, lots of dots remain

And the dots grow bigger and bigger

And metamorphose into

Huge circles and deep gorges

Now everything is confined

In a ‘O’ circle

But, ‘O’ was not the first letter born

The letters that did not melt in fire

Have corroded in the soil

By Ismail Meladi

Wall

Wall

I placed the first brick
and you the second,
no place is left on earth!
So what?
Don't we have the right
over open space too
I put the third brick
you put the fourth one
and the bricks proliferate!
Now it is difficult to say
which is bigger--space or brick
no space is left on this earth
to place any more bricks
let me place it within your heart
and you reciprocate!
And the waves of love
will cease to caress
the banks of our hearts,
for the heightening walls ensure
that these waves can never cross them!

By Ismail Meladi

The Fire of Pen

The Fire of Pen

An ember erupts

In the eyes of the pen

That pens the fate of

The universe

The ember flames

From a hot inspiration

Of the wind’s

Blowing awareness

Aghast was the fingertip

That flaunted, lived

And ordered as the judge

Of the universe

The fingertip got roasted

And shivered in the fire

Of the pen’s wrath,

Trembled all inside

There grabs the pen

A sword to chop, slice

And dump the fingertip

And jumps up hysterically

Stretch and tighten

The nerves of the pen

Bulge out the eyes

Its ire becomes lava

The pen sets out on war

Its throat spits words

That ignites more

Like a rain of fire

It’s only astonishment

In each and every sound

That is heard around

And each sight that is seen

There turns around the pen

That was the sharp weapon

All the way through; against,

With the same wrath of fire

Recalls the fingertip

All those past moments

The dance of the pen

Performed over its spin

And the pen was thrust

A good step forward

While the body receded

Seven steps backward

Remembers the fingertip

How the colour of letters

Faded and died down

Only on the papers

It’s now a disturbing memory

That the pen was moved on

And made to dance unending,

Uncaring of its body and soul

I’m ready to melt myself

In the heat of the pen

That can’t be drenched,

Also ready to shed my body

I will resurrect enkindling

A new light deep inside me

Let it brighten up the

Darkest of its corners

By Ismail Meladi

Stream

There flows

A stream

Between the

Parliament House and

The Rashtrapathi Bhawan,

Not at all deep,

Still so long,

But too narrow,

However,

None dares

To cross it,

Somewhere

Along its banks

Switched on

The Neon bulbs

The stream

Without waves

Creates roars

Of waves

In the minds

Of the donkeys

The stream stretches

Its length day by day,

Splits Mother’s breast,

Emerge many branches,

Lions roar,

In its high pitch

Faint the fellow humans

In front and rear,

Tighten the twines,

And at the end

Splits the heads

Of the donkeys

Dries up the earth

Finding no way to flow,

Steers the stream

Towards the sky.

By Ismail Meladi

Post Modern House

Commotion of limbs under the roof

Areas abundant to tread past

Mind flutters in the infinite sky,

Held up on the Mouse

Miles of distance between rooms

Not at all noisy dining table

Drawing room built in muteness

Deep pits in the bedroom

Flatly impassionate veranda

Shower of tears in the bathroom

Storeroom that retains nothing

Half-boiled life

In the kitchen, where worries burn

No space for flowers to blossom

As there is hardly any yard

And beyond the gate,

Acres and acres of frozen ice

By Ismail Meladi