Nibbana, unclaimed

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

Short poems

 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

A midnight sonata

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