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Durlabh Singh

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London, England, UK

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Explore

by

Durlabh Singh



And who will explore
The days of sullen lore
Where stars get numbered
In their deep slumbers
Around outskirts of milky shore.

Building castles with strands of dust
Tracing shadows with outstretched arms
Garlanding planets with rings of advent
Or greeting clouds at your very doorstep.

Touched by some grace of love
Which provoked one to dream or scream
And who will explore or deplore
Shells of mountains or their molten core.


Each Night

by

Durlabh Singh



Each night I died the death of yesterday.
The pestle poisoned the peel of each thought
Grinding shelling the shadows of hearth stones
Demurred decried the enemy cannot act
Cannot grudge cannot cheat with fabled screams.

The greased guillotine struck with might
On portals of mind sealing lips
Binding hands huddled in a herd song
To escape the fire fury and the shrieks
Tongue tied tassels tempting not
Ever more the calcined dust
Vaporizing shattering scratching
The skins of landscapes peeled and plotted
Heaped up with skeletons of the old thorns.

Death and dreams have buried the day
Amputated the time with lavender spray
Broken wings and the lifeís span
Renewed never but ever the same
Fresh tongues giving it a form
Ripening the grief and the corn.


The Sunset

by

Durlabh Singh



Sinking the sun will drown in its own blood
Touching
With last conscience its oozed out blood
Fingering
Bine stemmed branches of oak tree
Evil
Stormed by good twin present everlasting
Companioned
On high pinnioned seas.

Shrunk shriveled the heart
Shudders in tentacles of willow trees
Touching not the fervourless spirit
Resting unwearied for nothingness
Plumed and ruffled
By bird songs of no avail.

The death lament winded not
In wilded plains
Stormed downwards the reddish glow
Shining
With all the despaired
Brained and eyed
Ever felt by the human touch.


To Vincent

by

Durlabh Singh

You did not love the sceptred sunshine
You loved the summerís undiluted sun
Which in the end took its bitter revenge
In depriving you of your saline serenity
Into the depths of crazed pivoted symphony.

Rest assured in your diverted quickened steps
That nobody loved the soul within your crest
The crazed straw hat topping your yellow hair
Your red beard drenched in the crowds, a fear
It was enough to drive the crazy sickened mob
For a revenge on your enflamed tortured throb.

Children will mock you
Citizen will lock you
Women will scorn you
People will disown you.

Dawning clouds and rustling winds
Broken strokes of the lemon rinds
Vermillioned lamps amid ochred yellows
Cobalt blues of the sulphured mellows
Embittered flowers in the wasted vase
Vibratory landscapes in twisted grass
Pavement cafes under the starry skies
Purpled deeds in hallucinatory nights.

With color and the light
And amid a creative start
An explosion within your soul
And a bullet in your heart.


KISS

by

Durlabh Singh

When I kissed you
In an arid waste of that cheek
The tangle of your hair did dissect
Indulged in making a tale brief
Of some sombre trivial demise
Of hope forlorn or of rainy nights
And the communications between two hearts
Flowered perhaps in meadows of grass
Sweet whispers stop not
A song of soul on warm lips
Neither charm away nor stop now
The wonder of love in mind's crypts.


THE MOON

by

Durlabh Singh

The moon
Oh catch the moon
Put a noose in its nose
Bring it back to harness
The icy wilderness of the noon
Sprinkle it with flowered dew.

Catch it before it runs
To the penumbra of sun
Oh run and run to recover
From suffoction of grief & bart
Stiffen its dust with tears
Or the ceremonial flood
Of the tidings of the present
The anti poetic
Peregrin of the sedged cart
The olibanum of the crushed heart.

The moon, oh catch the moom
Catch it before it runs
To the hilliard mansion
The septic pun
Where the master of hounds sleeps
With his metallic face turned to wall
Where under the greenish shadows
Shines the dool.

The moon
Oh catch the moon
Catch it before it runs
To the penumbra of the sun.


HAVING BEEN HAPPY

by

Durlabh Singh

Having been happy in touching metallic skies
Or fingering the moon for its dusty overlay
Having been happy in moving orbs of the shores
Or spreading the sunshine to the burrowed moles.

Watching a lonely planet amid reluctant universe
Communications by eyelids in retinue of mankind
Having been happy in sweepimg the volcanic dust
From a cold planet cast out of Brahama's curse.

Having been happy in holding that repose
Which contained hidden geometry of the universe
Having been happy in consoling suppressed cries
Of the shoring waves all under the moonlit skies.


Obtaka-- The Magician.

by

Durlabh Singh


Moon goddess came to visit the forest last night
Riding on chariots driven by the velvet monkeys
Guarded by hornets and the armies of wasps
Beleaguered in obscurities by Obtaka the magician.

A maker of charms for the thieves and the lovers
Talisman of skies from paled skins of foreheads
Nail maker hooved webs of the antelopes
Shifter of the sharp swords for the reddish ants.
Striding solid at the hour of the midnight
Giving way to doorways to enter the corridors
Illuminated by the translucent light of the moon.

Tender are the dreams under the wider skies
Where buffalo roam in mud staked stripes
Conversing with mirrored spirits of golden ghosts
Witches, wizards, nymphs or other watery sports.

The chameleon on converse with the blizzards
Obeying the command to put spur on the lizards
The crocodiles, hippopotamus, ibis and the lion
Drinking at water holes under direction of wizard
Rocked white, stone turned hatches for the rabbits
Skin rigged, log wooded dug outs for the jackals
The eel of the deep laughing on its trailed dance
And Obtaka the magician roams in rugged stance.


ASLEEP

by

Durlabh Singh



I fell asleep
In middle of the night
Or perhaps it was a day
Feigning the darkness.

There was a beggar
At my tapped door
Begging for a silver spoon
Or perhaps for a pot of gold.

A limpid long life
Like flow of a river
Descending into the dust
Perhaps in harassed fever.

If I was asleep
Who was the other I ?
Cajoling, decreeing
Perhaps a child with a dagger
Or a painted being in swagger.

Days come and go
But the sun without a race
Soulful of its luminosity
In a jocund dark space.


EPPING FOREST

by

Durlabh Singh



I fell asleep
In middle of the night
Or perhaps it was a day
Feigning the darkness.

There was a beggar
At my tapped door
Begging for a silver spoon
Or perhaps for a pot of gold.

A limpid long life
Like flow of a river
Descending into the dust
Perhaps in harassed fever.

If I was asleep
Who was the other I ?
Cajoling, decreeing
Perhaps a child with a dagger
Or a painted being in swagger.

Days come and go
But the sun without a race
Soulful of its luminosity
In a jocund dark space.


HOPE

by

Durlabh Singh



I hope that one day she will sigh
Holding strands of thousand griefs
Locked in the recesses of universe
Beyond the infinity of the briefs.

Beyond wounded streets of the city
Will look into the watery eyes of the sea
And her hand will explore silted memories
And all the secrets hidden in her enclose.

I hope one day she will remember
The vagrant nights of glistening rain
And all reflected images will conjure up
Voices of high romance within her breast.

Which of course she will always deny
Holding to rituals of flesh as her prime.


I DREAM

by

Durlabh Singh

I dream of verse
That will lighten
The heaviness of spirit
Restoring mind
To some reflecting regions.

I dream of verse
That will move away
From stone circles
Where the demons walk
Clutching strangers
Riding in howdahs
On elephants and phantoms.

To avoid wolf pits
Or some alluring smiles
Treasuring the shades
For reflections in pools
Some contemplations
Watery constructions of cool.

I dream of travel
To remoter lands
Where under Jacaranda trees
Breezes shower mauve petals
Declaring clarioned call
The advent of the spring.


LADY OF NOURISHMENT.

by

Durlabh Singh


Lady of nourishment
Hidden of excess
Sacred of power
Ruler of distinct.

Seven scorpions galling
Plotting their revenge
Dreaded of poisons
Stings in firmaments.

Moulder of mountains
Creator of the maze
Tuner of the silence
Carver of the embrace.

Lady of nourishments
Ruler of the distinct
Server of enchantment
Breather of incense.


RESTORE ME

by

Durlabh Singh



Restore me
To myself
Divorce me
From perpetual death.

Bathe me
In fresh showers
Under the summer sun.

Take me
To lands
That speak of mystery
Where the tongues
Are given to leaves
And songs to birds
And little cicada sings
Enlivening the valley
With fresh sounds
Across the mountains.

Seize me
From clutches of
Concrete
Give me suns
That will melt
The frozen seas
Within myself.


WE HAVE

by

Durlabh Singh


We have swallowed the dead leaves
In remembrance of the pastured past
Somewhere in the depths of nights
In order to survive the dreaded loss.

A hand from destiny keep beckoning
Approaching slowly avoiding shadows
Throwing noose on rocks of the moon
In strengthening arms of some afternoon.

We have swallowed a purple paradise
Quenched flames to make frozen eyes
Muffled fences against sound of fury
All to serve just some chastened houri.


SOULS OF DEAD

by

Durlabh Singh


Before waters of the sunset
The souls of the dead hold
A ceremony in saffron precipice
In rumbling dialects of the unbold
Under reflected obscure darkness
Of feasts arranged at broken end.

In the lands of the waking
Mamba the black serpent wails
In sunflowers of decay to dance
Amid ashen dust of the meteorites
In smearing its detested dreaded stance.

To get respect from the planets
In ancient lands of feathered birds
Winged in by some beguiled buzzards
In shades of distinction of monitored lizards.


I HAVE LONGED

by

Durlabh Singh


Beyond the reach of the hoary hands
Free of flooded tongues without words
The silent testimony where stones speak
Trying to cut through accumulated agonies.

I have longed to traverse regions
Hand in hand with the seeds of the storm
Where protracted fingers will set forth
Drenched earth with the sprigs of thorn
Where the footprints of the expelled hope
Will leave no modus mark of banishment.

I have longed to traverse regions
Where eyelids get weighed
On a pair of greasy scales
For consummations in wilderness
Or for the geared splintered start
Where certain thoughts might secure
Symptoms for the ills of the heart.


GREEN GREEN

by

Durlabh Singh


Green green the colour of the sea
Walking with shadows of the yellow
Corn flowers in the guise of the blue
Keeping pace with waters of the narrow.

Silent silent the turbulent tales
Under wayward motioned twilights
Listening to calmed rippled disruptions
Trading maps in situ for twinkling fireflies.

Red red rocks staid under the sun
Structures wrought by serene cores
Breaking up restrictions in castered confines
By the blatant blossoms of the chalky shores.


AT MY DOOR

by

Durlabh Singh



Who knocked at my door
In the middle of the night
Directions to awake
Breaching a journey
Of thousand miles.

Colours idly spread
In conformity with hues
Across a chasm of skies
Dreaded infirmity of few.

Some salve shapes arise
Dreamt by quest for a change
Ribbled branches in green
A tree of spirit at the gate.

Some courage to explore
The shadows under your feet
Dusty entanglements held
Where hazen horizons meet
For the serrated probes
Spewed in the twilight grief.


CONSTRUCTIONS

by

Durlabh Singh


Nothing to be resolved here in conspired
Homely constructions in corroded iron
The addings and endings of compromise
Counselled to count the cost of the sirens.

Catapulted in cramped, grated in way
Screams in sinister, cracked in kale
Crushed striven in the tortured sway.

Criterion of the selective, some crucible
In custody of customs matched in bone
Curtains in sedate for the passive clone.

Of sinewed symptoms
Suffocations in lairs
A call for the cyclones
To clear polluted airs.


BARDO

by

Durlabh Singh


May not the
Element of space
Rise against me
In acrid acrimony.

From the north
Arrives green goddess
Ghanta of serpent head
Garlanded with skulls
And in her hand
Holding metallic bells
Sounds in surges
Deafening eared knell.

Let me remember
Infinite compassions
The past deeds
For all the things
Great and small
For all the creeds.

For the white dove
For the yellow bear
For fields of worms
For earth borne cares.

Let not the
Element of sun
Arise against me
In wandering thirst
Or burning symptoms.

Yogins arise westward
Bringing seeds of wisdom
With wavering of garlands
Four coloured lights
And the scents
Moulded in purified elements.

All prevailing circles
Let not the element
Of the earth
Arise against me.
In splintered segments.


COUNTLESS

by

Durlabh Singh


Countless are the regions of mind
Countless are the worlds in action
Countless are systems in operation
Galaxial vibrations and the stars.

Wind, water and the plants
Dancing in tune to a dance
Who is to decipher
This symphony ?
Rising across rivers of skies.

Countless are deceptors of innocent
Countless are the dealers in deceit
Countless are the shedders of blood
Countless are monsters in the breed.

Countless are the venues for beauty
Countless are the regions of grace
Countless are the vales of the tears
Countless are annals in heart breaks.

Countless are the regions of courage
Countless are the ways in discovery
Countless are the paths for the loss
Countless are the traces in recovery.


GAZAL

by

Durlabh Singh


What has happened to the venues of the heart
A strangeness resides even before the start.

A search carried out in realms of gentle beauty
It might break the heart in throes of the ecstasy.

Now dreams have become a moder of reality
And reality has turned into a dreamt frivolity.

Love and happiness turned out fair weather friends
Grief was a constant companion in all lifeís mends.

The poet kept his promise in the wake of limpid art
Heavens became enraged for sake this dying cause.

The wind has kept silence
At another dayís depart
Songs gone without listeners
And singer gone without pause


GREAT DREAM

by

Durlabh Singh


To be alone in that great dream
Pursuing silence in active ascensions
Where the sea has entered the drop
Completing a sovereign mystery
In directions and the dimensions.

Conjuring up uninahibtated space
In step with a new formed lineage
Some vastness of scales to remedy
Thorns in some unwielded image.

Within dim lights a ray of freedom
Singularity of rebellion by a fragment
Infringements shielded from conformity
Accepting tenements of spatial diversity.


HEATS

by

Durlabh Singh


Heats within the brazen bodies
Heats that melt into the dreams
Heats in caressing of the hands
Heats generated in rapacious streams.

Heats that buy back frozen seas
Heats that nourish inner resolve
Heats oozing from fire sermons
Heats in the smouldering of evolve.

Heats of the seraphic serpents
Heats in shadows of the earth
Heats encumbered in passage of time
Heats in wake of death and birth.


I WILL CONTEMPLATE

by

Durlabh Singh


Today I will contemplate
Surges in cosmic memory
And wind will help me
In uncovering breaths of universe.

Pulverising the depths of solitude
I will find fluidity in great oceans
Studded with shoals of sun creatures
Will get adorned in colours of millions.

Fishes in flowers amid ornaments
Will shine like the starry heavens
Vibrating their silvery tonalities
In rivers of some great endeavours.


I WILL DRINK

by

Durlabh Singh


I will drink a beaker of mirth
And find some chosen words
Versification of rapacious remedy
For a soulful of some maudit malady.

In reveries of the time past
Histories of forgotten universe
And I might discover a point
Where the death kept dreaming
A remembrance of me
In times to come.

In totality of grace
I will discover
Tactility of the space
And look for
Blossomed memories held
In regions of half contemplate.


KINCHINJUNGA DANCE

by

Durlabh Singh


Protected by Dakinis of all pervading wisdom
Blessed by Herukas of the blood drinking kind.

May the retinue in the moon chambers
Keep prevailing in unimpeded motions
Overcoming the shape shifting desires
Disability of all the conceptual notions.

Opening wraths of gods of magical births
With teeth as long as the mountain slabs
And mouth as wide as the planet earth.

Red haired coloured as the rust
Of the evil one with matted dust
Honourer of donor of bones in gales
Or of blood linens soaked in entrails.

Spirits of Kinchinjunga dance
Aiding the roots of the corn
Offering as lamps to creatures
Tranquillity in high sound features
Removing accesses in ignorance
Germinating seeds of the fragrance.


STARRY SHINE

by

Durlabh Singh


Starry pale shine spreading
In branded highways of galaxies
On city streets lamps in enflameness
With gusty winds in obscurity of streets
Ridges beyond existence in contours
Where death strides in signet of shrieks.

In some fabled wilderness
Weaklings of spirit gone in trade
Disturbing portents flowers in fell
Where summer no longer betrays.

Shapes voyaging beyond limits
Driven by autumnal eyed greets
Some mantras of repeated repose
To watch the rapid river in retreat

Keeping a close watch
On turmoils of inner core
River teething on clumps of grass
Emitting pained sounds steeped in lore.


TIRED EYES

by

Durlabh Singh


Some trajectory of tired eyes
Piercing the shadows of days
Communications in spired grounds
Where the dust of the footsteps lay.

A bird perching on a lonely branch
An autumnal evening of cold freeze
Where the deeds are kept in pivoted
Security of some exuberant breeze.

Here the greater love cannot save
Life cast on the horizons of chaos
An essence of oneself even rekindled
Confronted always by a probable loss.

In stillness a sealed hand pointing
A beckoning of some lonesome sway.
A pointer for some cursory glance
Holding the courage in hands of grey.


TITIKAKA

by

Durlabh Singh


At the edge of lake Titikaka
I saw my face reflected
Under the canopy of reeds
Serving some dual purpose
One plea for the inhabitants
And another for aesthetic scries
Fair waters refracting a hue
In keeping with the azure skies.

Perplexing motions in froze
Amid alien corn
Appearing such no more.

Known by native Aymara
Mama Kota, the mother lake
For worship of the sun
By ancient Incas in glade
Where Manco Capac
Rose from the waters
To give ancestral law
In temples dedicated to
Divinity of sun and alters.

Around floating isles of Uros
Growing greens of totora reed
Shades of Taquila en waters
Reviving tales of ancient creed.


TREE TOPS

by

Durlabh Singh


The wind lives in the tree tops
Visiting plantains at invitation
Serrating waterfall in eddies
Fragmenting the sown
Into shifters of the unknown.

Into that solitude of curves
Where expressions reside
Without end like eternity
Casting pebbles in fluidic images
In expanding circles of universe.

There the verbs
And the nouns
Get bewildered
Failing to root out
Incomprehensibility
Lamentations in sounds
For some sovereign searching.

Demolished by beauty & happiness
A capability of gestures still to arise
A challenge for attempters to scry
An avenge on shaders of the paradise.


URUBAMBA

by

Durlabh Singh


Chipped mountains
With the condor eyes
Flaked by some sinister
Grey hounds of the rock.

This is a place
For reflections
Stranding together
Some multiple fractions.

Wider vistas
Opening to alluvial lands
Geared in the high plateau
Imposing on winding river
Designs of their own hands.

Beyond the granite walls
There is a flutter of green
Decked by plaited yellow
Where little humming bird flings
Sipping nectar from each mellow.

Alone amid sacred valleys
Gushing waters of the flow
Of meandering Urubamba
Guarded by the temples
Fortresses of the Pisac
Amid Machu-Picchuís glow.

Drenched in past memories
The ushered in Rio Urubamba
Of the sacred cannons flows
Along edges of forests of rain
Protected by spirits of Amazon.


A CALL

by

Durlabh Singh


To call up rainbows for their starry skies
Or the wayward wolves for their howls
Strains of eagles in feathery refrains
Touching edges of the entangled plains.

To gather all pinioned pains within oneself
And the tied up thistles scratched by fowl
To make a morning star out of the darkness
From some black holes of a collapsed growl.


A TRY

by

Durlabh Singh


Trying to scatter emotions
Into a frozen net of words
Shades in golden dreams
Slipping through fingers
In delaine fluid waters.

Ochred rocks of high yellow
Shadowed by dark beasts
Mitigating against serenity
On plains of high sterility
Sheltering venomous spiders
Under tails of the striped tigers.

The serene stars shine
Along the milky way
Reflecting its glory
In lakes of silken grey.


ACCOMPLISHMENTS

by

Durlabh Singh


All the accomplishments of the ego
Rendered to dislodge redundant deeds
Dancing in sequence when progressed
Proclamation of oneself of sacred heeds.

All the realities are demolished here
All the varieties put to hoary heap
Laughter demolished in dead ends
All awakenings have gone into sleep.

Looking from outside to insight
From inside to the the outside
Striving for some probated change
Or participation in acquisition of pain.


AT MY DOOR

by

Durlabh Singh


Who knocked at my door
In the middle of the night
Directions to awake
Breaching a journey
Of thousand miles.

Colours idly spread
In conformity with hues
Across a chasm of skies
Dreaded infirmity of few.

Some salve shapes arise
Dreamt by quest for a change
Ribbled branches in green
A tree of spirit at the gate.

Some courage to explore
The shadow under your feet
Dusty entanglements held
Where hazen horizons meet
In wake of serrated probes
Spewed by the twilights of grief.


AMBAPALI

by

Durlabh Singh


Across the forested peaks where the hermits roam
And the birds sit contently on the vultured peak
Where the clouds play hide and seek with the sun
Covering the adjoined plains with the trees of teak.

Ambaplai the royal courtesan
Bathed in morning sunshine awakes and stretches
After the night of some perfumed pleasures
Her silken robes the maid now fetches.

A legend holds that Ambapali was abandoned at birth
In the forest grove amid animals and the bird cruises
Where creatures of deep gathered around winged serpents
Fed her on the forest fruits and the golden mango juices.

Through the glittering window a breeze strode
She stretched out for comfort but a sadness rose
Within her heart she felt some vacant space
Something strange was happening to her, she froze.

A gaily-painted elephant passing in the street
The dance of peacock in yellow and ultramarine
The impassioned warblings of the flying crane
The cooing of the koel now calling for her mate.

A maid came in and told her a strange story
That a prince has come to visit her city
But a prince without any kingdom or the riches
No royal robes he wore but only dross in stitches.

Under the trees of the lengthening shadows
Ambapali walked on in the evening light
To the place where the prince held his assembly
Though burdened in heart but trying to feel bright.

The monks with yellow robes surrounded the place
When they saw her they pointed out with scornful gesture
That she should just turn back without polluting the place
As city courtesan she should be ashamed to show her face.

As there was a commotion among the gathering crowd
And Buddha noticed a female struggling to reach
Let my daughter come, please make for her a way
No one is barred from my assembly with or without a say.

When she approached the radiant figure sitting on dais
Suddenly something broke within her and a flood issued
She could not hold back running tears from her eyeís wreath
And fell on the saviourís feet drenching the ground beneath.

Lord I have found a refuge for myself under thy feet
Please accept a poor woman like me as your disciple
I offer you all my riches and estate of the mango grove
Will renounce the whole world just for thy blessed face.

In her tears there was a ceaseless flight
Of birth and death and of all that chides
Ceasing by the end to the quenchless light
Beyond the mortal eyes, there limitless resides.

Listen monks, listen all the noble assembly
I have found that there is none outcast to receive my teaching
That there is no cast imbedded in tears or in blood or suffering
My karuna is for those who suffer when their blood is shed
My pity lies for those who shed tears when their heart is bled.

I will accept you
My fair daughter
In my sangha
And let the assembly recite
According to my custom.

OM MANI PADME HUM !
OM MANI PADME HUM !


BALLAD OF STRANGER

by

Durlabh Singh


I have come from a far off land
A stranger on the greyer steed
Thence I have seen my true love
Where all sweetness of her resides.

She is a maid of starry nights
With hint of wistfulness in her eyes
Having tasted the starlit fenced gaze
A pause for some time to contemplate.

Honest I have seen such a lass
From dazzling beauty shading eyes
And pity for my heart to loose, dares
Because her beauty has so many snares.

No more I will bemoan my fate
I will tell the tale again and again
I have drunk from decanter of wishes
Blessed be my fair maid and her kisses.


CONSTRUCTIONS

by

Durlabh Singh


Nothing to be resolved here in conspired
Canine constructions for corroded iron
The addings and endings of compromise
Counselled to count the cost of the sirens.

Catapulted in cramped, grated in way
Screamed in sinister, cracked in kale
Crushed striven for the tortured sway.

Criterion of the selective, some crucible
In custody of customs matched in bone
Curtains in sedate for the passive moans.

Sinewed symptoms
Suffocations in lairs
A call for cyclones
To clear polluted airs.


COPPICE WOODS

by

Durlabh Singh


Wasted in coppice woods
Drained in chiselled anguish
Gods of the elfins to sell
Sunshine in closed circuits.

Charades in preparation
For the promised land
Dazed by the forest fires
In some teaked nurtures.

Filtered sunshine
Toned orange in streets
Shredded to the pieces
By jaguarís sharp teeth.


CREATIONS

by

Durlabh Singh


To create somewhere a word anew
From odiums of tired in perpetuate
A disclaimer for souls in patterns
Conjured up in some mazed uproars.

Raising evocative colours
Behind the closed doors
A correspondence to senses
To get some linked scores
Where lighters and shaders
For the zones targeted
Posing deeply in the unknown.

Having the courage to create
In stone shrines by the lake
Some echoes of infinity
A will to occupy briefly
Recesses in impinged sterility.

Amnesia referring to the past
Moving upwards in infernal heights
Claiming privileges for last acts
Showing strengths in armed blights.


ENCOURAGEMENTS

by

Durlabh Singh


No one encouraged us to live
All have encouraged us to die
The fabled one, the cold one
Betrayed all the turbulent life.

They have ceased
Long love, lives in cordiality
Sensitivity of tired trades
Graced out in insensitivity
Huge waves of consciousness
Carving out censored visions
When under the grey skies
Shadowy darkness pours
Among skies of spirited sadness.

A broken star falling
Falling from its firmament
Shedding its diamond points
In the teardrops of memory.

When in the mournful stance
Angels of the heaven haunt
Some palpitations of the life
To save some favoured strife.


DARKER SHADES

by

Durlabh Singh


Have you known some darker shades
Ever bitter vested in hand held grief
Like bolting of steeds in fast lands
Attacks of undines in yelped streams.

Ancient roads keep in a disturbed sleep
Under dripping afternoons of grey storms
Where banishments of hope and despair
For an adjustment in some vespered start.

To make physical pain less lonely
A loneliness like sceptred face in time
A fresh start in unparalleled airs
To purify blistered seeds of the mind.


FIRES OF FLESH

by

Durlabh Singh


Where the sacred fires of flesh
Burn steady in mountain sojourn
Coral of the stones and the grass
Inscribing signatures in antique brass.

Across bluish waters of the lake
Reflections of the shaders alive
Seated on a wide wooden throne
Some unknown figures of Isis
Before the symmetrical fountains.

Here are the worlds
Of gods and demons
Of hazes and visibility
The shades and the unborn
Spirits of the dead long gone.

On certain nights
Opening the purple door
In the house of memory
Where a secret is born.

Drunk of the wilderness
Sharpening the pointed horn
Settled for a new awakening
In translucent light of the dawn.


HILLS OF TORA

by

Durlabh Singh


Of faery maidens
Clad in green
Raven of hair
Bronzer of skins.

Perfumers of breaths
Hasters in the gaits
Charmers of steeds
Raiders in the grace.

On ancient hills of Tora
There is enchanted land
Cast under the spell of beauty
Magical rite in breezed embalmed.

Disturbing not the keepers of stones
Piled up high under the ancient holds
Venomous incantations of darker kind
Controllers in dimness, shaders of ash
Liberators of channelled spirit in clash.

Tempters in atmospheric disturbances
Flayed up crops of certain resistance
Deeds of hand for sole consummations
In constellations of incessant aspirations.


DIRGE

by

Durlabh Singh


I was the dead manís dirge
With slow knocks at windowed ledge
Where lamp is scattered in shadowy deep
In fulcrums of the armed reflective sleep.

Let a cut winged silverian bird
Unheralded to throw a beveled edge
Of huey arrows across the chasm
In deep oblivioned glaciered ledge.

Binding the hands to the limpid arms
Holding the noose the rope and the corn
I was the dead manís dire dirge
Drowning the scales of the distant surge.


BALLAD

by

Durlabh Singh


Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.

Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.

Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steedís back
Has turned the nightís face into a roon.

Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owlís nickled bane.

Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.

Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.


THE BATS

by

Durlabh Singh


Dark dark the jocund space with downy flesh
Black bannered hideous gloomier than rest
Under the low hanging tattered rugged sky
Float clouds dark tortured low lit as night.

A shoal of bats deep as rust
Tight footed damp smeared descend
Over the houses streets and creeks
Invading the dark deep dungeons in heaps.

The dungeon of my brain creeks and racks
While the shoal of obnoxious foxes descend
Each one fighting and probing deeper headed
Sucking last drainage of my refelled blood.

The fury of my blood has made them blind
In bunches they grope shriek and prowl
Blinded nerve rotten hindered to crawl.

Tired and thick with banging their heads
Against rafters spokes nails and knives
Hopelessly will hang themselves over cobwebs
Dimly constrained lured dumb and defied.

There they will hang like hope forlorn
Pitted from the depth drums will be sounded
The likes & days of noisier time will sanction
The shades of escape then will be outbounded
Hands of doom will climb to clutch their forms
And squeeze their brains along bloody hawthorn.


EMPYREAN SONGS

by

Durlabh Singh


I always spawn
Numerous of kind

Cold ethereal born
Forgotten empyrean songs

Of glory and bliss
But they always hiss

When measures are sought
They seem to dart
Like sonorous of morn

Reflections that bring
Silvery treasured kiss
Where remembrance longs
For the old forgotten songs
Which are always spawned
At the advent of the dawn.


FAILURE

by

Durlabh Singh


Isolated tentative in rosy tower
Sublime detached observer of success
Making its own life and time
Swallowing in one long yawn all the glories
Keen scented existence and sanctified its rewards
Cut off from the masters & futilifying the slaves
Giving a disdain look to posterity and its pards
Ignoring punctuality with a haughty look
But the huge mountains with discordant chords
Under the mantles they take refuge huddling
And you like a mother carry a pail for orphans
Poor and disrepute banished against the drift
The filth the pathos the ordinary drowsiness
The blind beggar the woman in rags
The furtive individual who lives kicking away
From the encroaching collectivity of the age
Greater than success sublimer than wealth
Tender as futile love wended as the god divine
Accepting person as a person without duly
In betterment or development of the suppressed
Piecing and embalming the wounded tendrils
The one who dropped out of the marathon or left
Afraid outraged by greedy convinces of haughty
And the hispid who tried to set a trap.

Look that blind beggar huddled under the bridge
His guttered life a heart longing for paradise
But in hell it seeks its forgetfulness
Of lifeís bitter dregs deep and canine
Under shadows of blown husk and the pathos
Enduring the wants and unrewarded labours
Discredited and shredded on the runnel heaps
By those of pampered living & easy of shrouds
Hearts will come to you and extend your arm
To pick a mutilated corpse a rose or a thorn.


FEATS OF COURAGE

by

Durlabh Singh


Feats of courage and the heroic death
For the cause country or the desert zones
Peeping voices low under old stony buildings
In wake of the retreating armies of the Rhone.

On the hill an impregnable fortress
On the ground a mound of hay and mud
The battering of bats against the windows
In ruins destroyed by the war of mammon.

Give us a change of seasons
A little pause of breath after the sunrise
Two and two along bundled hay stacks
An undamaged barn along the ground.

Looking across the high window there is
A landscape stretching across the fields
But the internal bonds of prison keep tying
The gaze inwards towards the shields
Facing the demigods of death and destruction
Muzzled up rifles wolf dogs punitive camps
In the verse a demolition a smouldering ash
To counteract the poisons of the times.


FLOATING WINGS

by

Durlabh Singh


Floating wings
Glorious forms
Destitute colours
Of toxic winds.

Having drunk
All the shades
Shine I will
Like a star
Bemoaning its
Cruel fate
Amid torrents
Of constant rage.

Gods of fear
Gods of nights
Gather up
Your stifled fight
Gods of chaos
Gods of confines
String together
An absent design.

Silent music
An invisible lore
Distant dirges
Of thundery pours.

Raining clouds
Under floating wings
Destituting the colours
Of the toxic winds.


GOLDEN TEMPLE

by

Durlabh Singh

Riding high on the limpid waves
Rising high on the shimmering presence
Blue waters of white marbled chequers
For the eternal hymns of wayward heart
The golden domes invoking a saffron path.

Novices of thoughts and sunshine abiding
The golden swarms of vibratory atoms
The hush of pilgrims on the circular pitch
Tearing apart structures of egoed ditch.

Give vent to destinations of beauty & liberty
The concerns of soul now past its restrictions
Illuminate a glance bereft of the inner tumult
Saluting the Guruís presence in a silent rebirth.


HANDFUL OF WHEAT

by

Durlabh Singh


For a handful of wheat
They sold a moundful of their pride
Driven by the demonic gods of nature
Who care only for biles and flesh
Trading gaps between hand & thought
Forcing one to resign
To the floors with broken zones
Bleeding feet and care of the gnats.

How cheaply do we sell
Our sheltered monotonous lives
The moments of inner reflections
The nights of inner strife
Then we are ready to depart with
Our deeper conscience the steeper souls
Then rolling whispering hurling
Set upon with those worldly hands
We cash crack and rip apart
The very threads of our bruised heart.


I FORGOT

by

Durlabh Singh


First I forgot your smiles
Then the shadow of your flesh
Then the wrinkles on your palm
Then those long slender ledge.

Then I forgot your deciphered name
Then the long alphabetical strife
Then I forgot the staid solid skeletons
Arranged neatly on the shelf twice.


LA MANCHA

by

Durlabh Singh

Bereft of the poetry of his soul
The knight took refuge in the house of death
Into darkness he went with his mind crushed
Wandering lust gone and with his own trust.

The enchanter gone
And disenchantment entered
And the land of La Mancha
Slowly turned to dust & cinders.

Talisman of allurements or of feasts
Chimeras of windmills or of fabulous beasts
Golden liquors and the shining decanters
Tales of poets sorcerers and of wizards
Adieu to stillness and the romance
Tryst and other typographical stance.

His merry madness had to go
And sanguine sanity had to be constructed
Don Quixote had to be demolished
And Alfonso had to be resurrected.

Alas! there is no poetry left now
In the lands of the Al Toboso
And no veils of Dulcinea now accrues
Across the knight of the mournful rue.


TO VINCENT.

by

Durlabh Singh

You did not love the sceptred sunshine
You loved the summerís undiluted sun
Which in the end took its bitter revenge
In depriving you of your saline serenity
Into the depths of crazed pivoted symphony.

Rest assured in your diverted quickened steps
That nobody loved the soul within your crest
The crazed straw hat topping your yellow hair
Your red beard drenched in the crowds, a fear
It was enough to drive the crazy sickened mob
For a revenge on your enflamed tortured throb.

Children will mock you
Citizen will lock you
Women will scorn you
People will disown you.

Dawning clouds and rustling winds
Broken strokes of the lemon rinds
Vermillioned lamps amid ochred yellows
Cobalt blues of the sulphured mellows
Embittered flowers in the wasted vase
Vibratory landscapes in twisted grass
Pavement cafes under the starry skies
Purpled deeds in hallucinatory nights.

With colour and the light
And amid a creative start
An explosion within your soul
And a bullet in your heart.