Thursday, September 29, 2016

Tethering ties of love and death.

Miles and miles of thoughts like clouds
floating outside the oval glass 
Below the flapless wings 
Of humongous metal bird
A  son goes back home leaving
Steaks of fun and drafts of wine.

Streaks of pink,
Orange, maroons and lilacs
Virtually painted at the horizon
Would fade soon when
The chase of time ends
And this weary farmer’s son
Would land to haggle through
To labyrinth of rules and laws
To get back to a lengthy rude ride
Along the narrow roads
Of human streams,

Eyes close and dream rides back 
Inside a cart of rainbow
To the
Hours, days and years,

A half clad kid walking
The gravelly soil to rice fields 
Watching the yoking of the beasts 
Of desire and ambition
Drops of rain seducing the dry
Parched soil mixing with sweat from
The farmer's bare body. 
The earthy fissures turning wet 
To receive the plough's tongue
Turning pods of soil 
Like churning of the young mind 
Watching from the banks of the field.

Dreaming to escape the dredge
That was the dad’s pleasure as well as pain.

Not to his own son, dad thought
And wished and yearned and even goaded  
The son to grow wings
Escape to towns of remote lands
Yet longed without words that he would
Return to the father and the dry banks
To oversee the hired hands
Toiling the slushy soil, one day.
The son knew but pretended otherwise.

Father’dreams never match
The son’s ambitions. The farmer knew that,
The son did not then.

Leaping from the lips of wet earth
The son vaulted himself to
Known treasures and unknown
Pleasures to strokes of luck
And Lust for life
Values of new shores and
Calls of anonymity
Escaping the leash of love
Limits of emotions.

Dreams of desires 
At distant bazaars
Uprooting links
Breaking limbs
Shedding covers
Baring the nasty selfishness
Chasing loveless goals
Drifting, floating in flood
Aimlessly  to anchor again
Then again escape from  
New  tethers of ties, naked bare love.
Ultimate freedom of enlightenment or
Roller coaster of bohemian existence.
Chips of life seeded
Growing new mute ties
Freedom  of self forgotten awhile.

 Why was the broken tether soldiered?
Why the Jolting call and jetting back?
The body of the farmer
Still awaits in the morgue
To receive his precious dream,
His son, flying back with caged desires
Forgotten unsaid promises
Missed shores and yet
Missing strokes of love.

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