This

 It is this, un-concerned chasm that widens

It is for this I write, the

Disguised fierceness rushing, now and again,

What lament could justify the widening the 

Coarse-lewd rhetoric, the animosity.

My declamations merely become cadence, they 

Don’t necessitate any crises of moral 

Proportions; nor arouse any froth of curiosity .

What maddens us also makes us question the very beliefs upon which hinge our decades. 

..

Anant Dhavale

1

Waking is dreaming 

In sleep— a new world of

Color returning to cheeks, of

Meanings rediscovered 

Waking is also walking 

Past known and unknown faces

On a long haul train of time

Zooming through desert

The coal runs low and a 

Fear of getting stranded midway

Looms large. 

..

Anant Dhavale

A ghazal

Well who would you blame 

When rigged is this game 

All of us are brutes 

And no one to tame

You call them the thugs

In parts you’re the same

When questions get tough 

Say what’s in the name

The rest were all gone

I muted the flame

.

Anant Dhavale

Speak

We speak with each other like protagonists from

Existential novels, in 

Long winded laments of self exploratory 

Monologues 

Never letting our guards down

We speak out of some urgent newfound

Necessity 

This very recent happenstance of some

Spiritual upheaval that cannot be contained

We speak in a language of low-tide sandlings

Eager for some orgasmic apocalypse of the 

Illusive inner world.

We speak — fully knowing words are energy that

Cannot be redeemed

..

Anant Dhavale

Waking

woke up in a dream wondering if this is real or that which passed

..

Anant Dhavale

Autumn Buddha

Your radiance would have swayed me
Another day, another time

But today
I am content 
Watching leaves fall
From a distance

Orange, red, brown
Colors of an autumn Buddha.

—

Anant Dhavale

Haiku - recent / random

 I woulda bought your book

but it was a hot New York evening 

and all I needed was more beer

..

monday night 

in the tavern of loneliness 

revelers drink to sadness

..

coastal town

the sun, frozen 

in a haze of time

..

a bird, perched up high

in a tree — feels the truth

it cannot explain 

..

your evocative eyes

let me know when 

to stop talking 

..

cloudy morning 

something flaps in the wind

a subdued beginning 

..

this one goes up-town

with a hub-bub of people

and their belongings 

..

a primal train scream

shards strewn astray

summer, in its full glory 

..

patter of raindrops 

like a stranger’s knock 

click clickety click

..

rainy morning wraps

the metropolis in a mist

of being and nothingness 

..

spring falters 

on the banks of 

returning cold

..

blue blue blue

a certain cold hue

my eyes won’t discern 

..

beautiful girl 

in a sub-urban metro

a dance of light and shadows 

..

sub-urban night 

slow jazz of stars

sky, a purple unfazed 

..

soft sounds of rain

a quiet evening

sleep — a distant corridor 

..

driving in rain

on quiet long nights 

the blue hum of time

..

imagination is 

a boat — weather torn

forlorn

..

soon we will forget 

the blizzards, the frost

such flows time

..

and there I see her

like a ray of sunshine

a soothing breeze 

..

like a relic of the past

a thought remains frozen 

waiting for the thaw 

..

cold cold nights 

amber hazy skies

myths re-spoke 

..

Anant Dhavale

( These, like most poems here are raw and in the making. I edit and re-edit poems before they get published anywhere.)