Sachidananda Panda

Hey! I can't breathe officer!
That's not the weight of thy knees;
The weight of pride and arrogance
The load of white on coloured skin
...

I wish not to find it under the trees
No! Never behind the walls
of decorated Monasteries
Church, Gurudwara, or Temple Mount
...

There is a breakneck competition
To be decorated as good or great
With some self maneuvered projected traits
Synchronous moves are made asynchronous
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Some may agree
Some would certainly disagree
A few would bunk off and scurry
Some may try to wink and bury
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I wanted to Sink In your love
Never knew…
There was venom on your lips
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Pain has no language
some bury it within
some allow it to flow
along the streams of tears
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If you wish so I would do
All that you would never be able to
Speak, whisper, shout or bleat
Am your silent mate, I can write!
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There comes a time…!
When nothing Disturbs one any more
Seasonal changes or social upheavals
Hypocrite ruler or helpless populace
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When you are engulfed in hopelessness
And the darkness frightens all around
Don't lose your heart!
Stop a while to look back
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Sweetness of love so sweet to say
To repel all darkness afar yesterday
The air fills with a captivating fragrance
Of passion, of pleasure and of romance
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On the vast canvas of Eulogy
Amid riot of complex colours
Million claps and noxious traps
Equivocal gestures of appreciation
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Unruly children are parental headaches,
The job is bit simple if a child
It can be convinced or beaten by brow
If required, and as per wish
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With a pleasant smile on lips
I asked the early dawn
How to reach the peace hub?
It turned its back with weird answer
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At times shadows of self frightens
A thought of some unimaginable incident
An unforgiving consequence looms large
It's when you get assured of
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The doors are never closed
With the odes of denial
Under the wrap of coveted words
Since I know! And therefore tell you so
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Life has been kind enough to give
Myriad reasons to cry
And be aggrieved
Yet! It could convince,
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16th Oct like any other day
After the Morning Prayer
I was out on my bike
Amid the Covid fears
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The day is here
It's 3rd November 2020
Million minds on ballot paper
Some trillion eyes worldwide
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For Heaven's sake…!
Let me not answer weird questions
How do you do..? What about this and that?
Let you call, am worn out or a wily brat
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With The Shabby Songs of the Cricket
Along The Trumpets of the Cloud
The Night Prepares To Plunge Deep
Drawing Sketches of the Rainbow
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