Poems by Chandra Shekhar Dubey

Chandra Shekhar Dubey

Earthen Urn

I gathered the ashes
from the cold pyre
smeared them on my forehead
sprinkled on my body
and rest gathered in the earthen urn
to set afloat in the Ganges
running across valleys,villages, cities
and green patches where animals eat grass
and lie to sleep on bare patches.
Whose ashes were these?
The ashes of the brave soldiers
who lost their lives on duty
in Naxal attack?
Or some loved one?
Or soldiers bravely facing
the enemy’s bullets?
Whose bodies are torn
and have a hundred patches?
They are blessed persons
whose self and soul are immersed
in the love for country...
I salute them whose sacrifice
reminds us -
they courted countless troubles,even death
so that we could live in peace.


Here lying
in winter afternoon,
flashing the days spent
with you wrapped
in moments sweet and sour.
I cherish the sweet sensations
in my nerves.
Sketches splash before my eyes
in many geometrical forms
wet in colors and smell
caressing my nostrils, shoulders
and bare chest against yours
in elecromagnetic circuit
of wild sensation
and you call it sensual and therapeutic
in your moans and whispers,
acknowledging with
convulsive currents and frentic kisses
on cheeks,lips and ear lobes
arousing the cupid in me
in all shades and rhymes
and inviting me to scale, intersect you
in different shreds and shapes
unknown to you.
I sail across the soft and supple terrain
in spasmatic torrents losing
the heat of my body
in the sea of tranquility
after frentic waves settle
melting their widerness
to the calmness of the sea.
It is placidity of a turbulent sea
after maddening storm,

a sailor’s sense of victory over
the hostile seductive swings
courting calmness of meditative moments
over clamorous sea.
Like a seasoned sailor in his frail boat
tossed up in the storm
I say to myself - ‘This too shall pass’.
My heart is filled with a void
between the two silences
and I feel the aching void within-
the joy of melting and the pangs of separation.
I bemuse in serpentine lock
of your slender arms and seductive
dalliance like a patient put on anasthesea.
The shadows fall behind,
weaving a pattern of light and darkness,
I feel like a prisoner lying in Plato’s cave
closed to the outer world
till the philosopher in me beckons
to see the reality beyond the cave walls.

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