Poetry: Jimmy Sharma

Jimmy Sharma
The Makeover

The different formations take cogent patterns in the mindscape
These patterns dwell there, inhabiting there for centuries
moving into coils and spirals 
shedding certainty and finality of imagination
The psyche becomes divine like a prophet
That can see everything crystal clear
The vision becomes more lucid
 That can see through magic realism
After the rain of good deeds and endeavours
 The rainbow of contentment gleams


The fresh breeze of hope and optimism
 has blown away the cobwebs of gloomy memories
that blurred the vision
and marred the beauty of life.
The period of mourning
besieged the dynamic mind
crushing the valiant and vigorous spirit.
At times, varied long forgotten memories
stirred in her head and she harboured
the hope of meeting the new, independent,
emancipated self at the horizon of
opportunities and desires.
Desires are the crowd of spectators
that throng at the very arrival of
impulsive whims of the heart.
Holding them back by strings of focus;
they smash the trance of chimera
and steer the mind towards
the lighthouse of truth and reality
The serene and resolute psyche
imbibes the comprehensive outlook of life
where giving  and offering brings more comfort
and the living becomes ecstasy.
She realizes that she has become Love.

Musings on Love

The empathetic emotions,
the implicit words purge all dross
 and usher the radiance of understanding.
The lovers, then, become
 fluent in metamorphosis.
When the beloved flutters a glance,
the lover catches the gleam of love in her eyes
He senses a flicker of eagerness to hear the words
 How he wish this longing to be contagious!
They say, “Name it first. Then enter the shrine of love.”
She replies, “We name what we own.
I don’t owe him.
 I breathe him like one inhales the air
 Do people name the bond they have with air?”
The true lovers realizes that
If one justifies; one is in an argument
 If one explains; one has to prove
 the self out to the world
 And love does not need both.
So ask yourself whether you love
 or you just breathe what others define air to be.


It takes no time to kill lovelorn people.
First, you have to stab them with
indifference, apathy and lies
The more you pinch and attack with claims of lies
The more they feel the shock
Then, you stop the smooth flow of communication
Then block it
So that, come storms of emotions
And wind of memories
Such people are alone
Helplessly alone- suffocating and shrieking within themselves
They cannot reach you
Then, for God's sake
Stop meeting them
Every time you meet
Their love grows deeper
Their love gives them life
But one day you strangulate it too.


The feverish restlessness--
the hallmark of love and separation--
a non communicable feeling
A reluctant listener
the urgency of emotions
a long awaited train of thoughts is deferring
the onset of passionate coaches
The heart twinkles at the glimmer of the eyes
Eyes excel at communicating the unsaid
The heart then hears it all with each throb
The glimmer of the glance scintillates with the inkling of craving
A blind temptation sweeps over--
The logic and reason is hurled away.

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