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| Parneet Jaggi |
Sometime Somewhere
Sometime somewhere we did it-
the wrong, the unjust, the unfair.
We could not hold hands for some reason-
will know it soon.
We could not define love in a perfect mould
as a cake immaculately dressed with icing
of enchanting, overlapping flowers,
melting soft in the mouths that sing.
We could not put back the leaf
to the tree that grew in my backyard.
We could not sing hymns in streets
like an intoxicated faqir rambling in tatters.
We could not!
Life shall call again in the dark of the night.
***
It was Love
When the dew kissed the grass blades with a silent whimper,
it was love.
When the eagle climbed the rainbow one step after the other,
it was love.
When the hoot echoed in the jungle alerting buddies of the dangers,
it was love.
When the waters that flowed over composite terrains merged with the ocean,
it was love.
When the outer petal covered the bud like a gown,
it was love.
When the breeze patted the cheek with a placid quietness,
it was love.
When I entered your eyes and stayed,
it was love.
When I called your name in sleep and you smiled,
it was love.
***
A Trail of Wonder
As I walked through the woods,
tall trees touching heads like two girls flinging tresses at each other ,
leaves gossiping about the sun's apparels of the day,
it's changing colour fashions
peeping through the chinks
every now and then,
I wondered at their meeting agendas
Peepal and banyan looking down at the younger siblings with a maternal ardor
watching them talk of the recent trends in sun shades.
Ashoka, Arjuna ,Sal in a chatty group
whisper the intimate titillation
of sharing waters with
Gulmohar, adorned with fiery-orange ear rings.
Grass hopscotched like a toddler,
turning yellow when scolded ,
back to green when caressed by the elders.
I wondered at the home management ,
when moon appeared as the awaited guest,
enticing, enchanting in a white gown with wavy patches.
All eyes lowered, hummed
dulcet tunes to the guest
and slept in peace.
***
Another Time
The solvent buzzing of bees
inside the veins
wakes me to a life of activity.
Chirps and chatters of the organs
pull me out of bed.
The dawn chorus in the ears
placed somewhere in space
injects the spirit to live another day.
The chip note of a humming bird
resting in a corner of the brain
spreads all around.
Give a jerk to my sick body
to begin another day
with the fluttering wings of my breaths.
The inside kingdom lends me a charm,
a boost, to arrange a meeting
of birds-big and small,
vocal and non-vocal,
to party another time
in the huge, dense forest
and retreat to the best at dusk.
***
Grains of Sand
The incipient world
in a new light
appears grains of sand
blowing in storms
under the heat of the bright sun
finding way to the oasis
in the endless desert.
Dearth of water dries the brain
creating horrid images
of oneself and the world.
Grains blow, fight, grapple, perish,
not reaching anywhere
meant to be.
Other grains continue
to survive the perils of the desert.
The blue winged birds ascending
in the skies
report the crisis to the heavens.
***
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