You do not need a mentor or a book to tell you the meaning or purpose of life. Look around you; there are enough answers. It is a roundabout way of saying most answers lie within ourselves if we look hard. Some people call it introspection, others meditation. I call it thinking. There is always a moment of clarity lurking around. It can find you under a tree, in a flowing brook, or under the plain blue sky.
++
Anant Dhavale
( this is not a poem !)
This city is a proverbial
melting pot, your
roots do not matter much here
nor do the modes of payment
mostly digital
#
I negotiate for a complimentary
Roasted papad
The maître d' agrees it’s a fair deal
The world moves on
#
A girl maneuvers her way
through stares and
glances
some benign
others not so
#
It’s cozy here in this
plush hotel room
a curtain you’ve pulled over
your eyes
#
Two worlds blossom
on every street
nook and cranny
-
Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale
things I’ve saved from
the heydays of rain and sun these
handful of petals and a few remnants
of the morning breeze, the simpler loves and
smiles of tender flowers, soon the sun
will move toward the end of the day, and with
that I may, too, but these little joys will
keep us alive and forever in the smiles
and the sparkle of tiny eyes - ah the
the beauty of life, never found but always felt
—
Anant Dhavale
Copyright @ Anant Dhavale
dust laden roads never
let the trees shine nor the
wind flow free like a bird
—
Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale
the breeze wouldn't
neither would the dew
lift this veil of mist
-
Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale
who will wipe these tears
scattered all over the mist ?
young rays of the sun.
Version 2 ( 5-7-5)
who will wipe these
tears scattered on the mist
young rays of the sun
-
Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale
Life’s more like (a)
Gas station pizza
On a rainy night
-
Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale
No plagiarism, please! All poems on this blog are protected by copyright.
What’s to expect
the mundane motion of planets, the
entangled sutras of life flowing
past each other in a
mad rush to reach
where though
what is the eventual being
Where is
run run run
fly fly fly fly fly
catch the innocence of the morning’s rays
a breath good enough to last a lifetime
and if I let the bird fly
and the breath sink
what difference would
it make.
-
Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale
'But you must be waiting for someone or something
you must have some idea,' says the wind
'Nope,' says the mountain.
The wait continues
Life goes on
--
Anant Dhavale
Copyright @ Anant Dhavale
I have been working on a couple of novellas. Hope to complete them soon! Of these ‘The Dirty Trick’ is a simple heist story with some lovable characters.
Trapped in a thought, an idea
They lived on, merrily merrily ever after
It didn’t matter if it were an illusion.
Alluring smile
Eyes, evocative
Behind a chic pair of glasses
He closes in with his lover
Warm breaths exchanged
The air, a little warm with their embrace
Slow moves the entrenchment
The magnanimous fall
A twist of love goes farther than you ever will
I am but a stranger at a distance, and it doesn’t
Matter
You could do well exclude me from the scene
It wouldn’t change a thing
From the ideas or thoughts
That float around
In randomness
A moment that slips out of time and space
Continuum
I heft time on my back
And history too
Yank a little rusty chain
Tell them I am real
What do you carry, though?
The cross you bear?
I have seen you up close
Up real
You and me
Droplets on window-panes
Drafts of careless wind
Fallen through cracks
Crevasses
Light at the end of the eye
The vision, a torment
A lament even
Desires melt and frost
The frost, the frost a silent assassin –
I was enamored by the morning
But the morning turned on me
Imagine
Trust, perish
Be a relic of Mohen Jo Daro
Become a fossil, a drop
In the mighty Potomac
Let the cold winds
Scar you, dwell upon you
Like remnants
Wartime peacetime
Times of confusion and chaos
Of people, real people
Living breathing anomalies
Of your own creed
Hiding beneath masks
Their smiles are fragile
The mirth, the cheers, the hoots
The sorries and the thank yous
The courteous nods
Faint taps on shoulders
Half-hearted side hugs
You and I
Droplets on window-panes
Drafts of careless wind
Fallen through cracks
Forgotten in the pomp
We live on
We are what the tornado
left behind
Broken walls
Shaken homes
Not a glimmer of light
2.
What brings us closer
In this nippy, windy night
Love,
fear,
a guilt ?
3.
These woods I traverse
A lonesomeness moves
A twig snaps
4.
Stars are meek
The sky, a sullen canvas
Autumn spreads open
Her arms
—
Anant Dhavale
When one by one all the shops have closed along
and the night is a muslin turning blue anon
There’s a misty air that says it's getting late
The town has gone to sleep and the stars have left
But the dew on lips is yet so sweet and wet
And passions heave with a force of glee and haste
And the urge to find the Shangrilla is great
the moon is a forlorn watcher at the gate
Witnessed by time, oh that lonely passer-by
This revelry, nay this beauty rises high
But who wants to part away and say goodbye?
—
Anant Dhavale
