WOULD
THE DREAMS EVER COME TRUE!
Tired
and worn out Life–
With
aching joints and painful shoulder-blades–
Carries
a burden of shades and shadows of care!
The
Night, too, had a dip in the Black-sea....
And
now sleeps out in the open...
Far
from the wearing candle of the room–
Completely
a spent force!
How
to pass this heavy, hanging, wobbling Time?
These–the
poems of Wordsworth....
These–the
monologues of Browning….
And
here are the dramas of Shaw!
Which
of these would see me through?
The
nymphs of breeze
Come
peeping through the window-panes:
And
shy and bashful…..
Come
gliding towards me!
And
so softly kiss my eye-lashes....
And
with tiny tender hands,
Sprinkle
color on my weary soul
And,
it turns and turns, until it’s fully cool and coloured!
And
my heart is now a Krishna
Which
dances to its own tunes–
Never
its own!
Never
its own!
And
the Fairies of Dream
Come
rolling one by one....
And
pinch my heart….
And
pick up my dying hopes from the stretcher….
And
put them on their golden wings....
To
make them appear–
Diamond
and rubies!
The
lap of Imagination is full of colors!
The
Queen of Hearts goes soaring up to fairy-land!
How
lovely are the Dreams!
Heaven
and Earth are mine!
There,
in the ocean of endless moonshine,
The
waves of silvery corn, shine.
There,
in the storm of color and scent,
The
caravans of paddy descend.
The
Beauties have washed themselves with dew!
The
stars of Love play hide-and-seek all around!
The
dull, dreamy eyes tell stories of empty barrels.....
Life
now wears the necklace of Love;
Its
arms now have the armlets of aspiration;
The
feet now tread the foams of joy!
Hope
now sings to the tune of dancing desires.
Beauties
smile and affection plays....
A
phantasmagoria of color and shine and jazz!
Now!
Even earth is a paradise!
But
the Fairies of Dream-land
Suddenly
thin out into smoke,–and vanish....
And
push me down here–into this so called ‘rats alley’,
From
such a dizzy height!
And
the Minister of Sleep,
So
leaves me alone…..
To
turn my sides on this hard, uneven bed!
The
long snakey silence,
Snaps
my heart and soul....
And
sets me again on the thorns!
Ah!
the World of Dreams
How
Lovely it was!
But
who would now dare
And
who would now care,
To
sleep on this bed of thorns of Reality!
Where
there is such endless, offensive humidity!
The
lips of petals are injured….
And
the throats of Nightingales, cracked!
They
croak a dirge,
That
goes to heart–
Like
so many fiery needles!
But
the stoney Gardener sleeps aside
Lead
in his ears,
And
iron in his soul.
The
learned damsels,
Shed
sour tears over their misfortunes....
The
schools and churches,
Give lessons of
ignorance!
Hopes
stumble there:
Life
hiccoughs sobs!
My
dearest, nearest friends do tell....
“You
have a knack for singing songs
And
writing poems....
Why
not come and do it now?”
But
while I think....
The
load I carry,
Of
the thought of
Bread
and butter:
How
to dare,
To
go there….
To
the world of jazz,
To
the world of stars,
To
the world of colors and grace!
With
a load so silly....
Ever
so increasing….
With
a load so ugly to look and think!
When
Vision gets a round somersault,
And
is run over by Frankenstein....
The
fringes now hang down of gabardine!
How
to dress my unfinished Venus
My
symbol of Love–Unsatisfied!
In
quilts of Poetry–soft and warm,
Made
of wool and feathers of swan!
So
let me live, unseen, unknown....
And
let me die unheard!
For
the songs I sing
Like
the whispers....
Of
the falling leaves....
In
a calm and patient Autumnal night!