Debendra Sahu (Voices Within)

Debendra Sahu after post superannuation from UCO Bank as Chief Manager floated into writing. His poems/short stories have been published in more than thirty national/International Anthologies including e-publications in StoryMirror, Best Poetry and SETU from Pittsburgh, USA etc., apart from being awarded Order of Shakespeare Medal by Motivational Strips, Gitesh-Biva Memorial Award for Short Story by Asian Literary Society, Prose & Pictures, OnFire Cultural Movement etc. and felicitated in various international poetry festivals. He is also a Literary Colonel of StoryMirror. His book of poems is scheduled to be launched at 2nd ALS LitFest, New Delhi. At present, he is a fulltime writer.



Final Journey

I have just disembodied and begun to fly
But wonder, why me as I don’t wish to die.
Whoever up there, can I have one more morning
As I wish to live, can I have one more evening ?
Flowers are yet to bloom in my garden
Fruits in the trees are yet to be ripen,
I wish to sing and see the sun rising
I wish to smile and gaze the moon flourishing.
I have not yet loved the rains
And their random appearance,
I have not yet liked the stars
And their twinkling grandeurs,
Never, I have kept my windows open
For breeze to come in,
Never, I have fed the pigeons when they
Flock on my terrace often.
I am yet to see a boat floating clueless
Amidst the squally winds on the sea,
I am yet to win a game of dice
Pitching the right numbers as per my wish.
I am yet to stand alone on a snow-filled mountain top
Stretching both my arms as far as I can,
I am yet to experience the clouds
Caressing and kissing me loud
Then hopping away like a deer adolescent,
So can I have one more rising sun
Or even few moonlights.



That Evening

Evening was spreading the wings of darkness
While the solitary sun was setting outside to vanish
Behind the mountain until the next first blush
I didn’t care, whether the day was getting dark
Or the sun was tripping or hiding behind the horizon
I was at verge of being dissolved in the depths of her eyes.
Oh my god, that was such a hot and boiling wisdom
We were being endeared and coming close indolently,
As if, ocean was melting and crawling towards the shore.
How could the shore behold without being enticed
When love was inebriating without any plea,
How could we contain our hidden desires, those
Erupting from the depths of hearts to outer surface.

My heart like a frog thumping inside me thick and wild
Without a doubt, it could yawn out with a dull sound,
I was feeling as if someone was perforating a fork inside
To weed or twitch the heart out, no more it would pound.
We were moving closer, much closer to coalesce
My nose, embedded with sweat-drops was to touch
Her sizzling nose, as if centuries have passed
The tempests of breaths were squalling inside out.
An invisible yet infinite force was pushing my sultry lips
Towards those mildly quivering pink petals of her,
Both my hands creeping around her waist bringing deeper
There was no jerk, when I dragged her blazing body closer.
Something was positively boiling within me
Something was apparently stirring inside her
It was for sure, not lava or a flowing volcano either.
I didn’t know, how and when I perished on her tropical lips
There was a blast, which flung all my senses in the midair.

A hefty man in uniform and stick in hand was patting my back
“Sahab ji, Getting dark, Park-gate will be closed now.
Both of you have to go.” Thak thak….. Thak thak….
He thumped the wooden bench with his stick.
He was discourteous and rude, I thought
Both of us were rudely taken aback.



Solitary Bird

The lone bird has since flown far off
In search of a nest on a tree over a mountain top,
Although it has found the decrepit tree
The branches there are feeble and dry,
The sticks and hay gathered for the nest, couldn’t fix or hide
Hence the bird has alienated, floating far and wide.

Few decades back, they all say
This bird was young, not as rudderless as today.
He once fell in love in the garden of sandals near a bay
Wished to knit a family, remain happy and always gay.

But happiness was like writings on the sands near sea
Waves would come repeatedly to wash in tandems.
Take away everything inside for never-ending burials
The bird’s writings on happiness were buried in the sea.

For the solitary bird, age is not like wine
It doesn’t get better with passing of time.
No more sun rising in the eastern side of ocean tantalizes
No more the oldest myth called love fascinates.
The bird has turned off the thinking side of the brain
He doesn’t care whether it dusts or it rains.

The solitary bird still drifting in the sky
Under the non-existent tutelage and by the by.

Voices Within-2020 :: Setu, February 2020

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