Epping Forest

by Durlabh Singh

Spirit of green engendered in liberty
Sweeping across the glanded glades
Tangled tree spirits in tarnished brief
Dancing shades of sunlit lauded leaves.

Some reveries of buttercups in a sea of grass
Sported squirrels where frolicking en-mass
A listed gesture abbotted in a shallow ditch
Songs of flyers in myrtled melodious pitch.

Conversers of the mind in greenish code
Stimulations of heart in a gentler mode
Spirits of nubile shadows laying aside
Some sultry caresses for the winded bride.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2003

The Bee

by Durlabh Singh

The bee is drunk with honeyed dew
In flowered colours a metallic dance
A hitched stagger in shifting winds
A flutter of smile in all that morass.

Enterprises of hive now gone distant
Structures and stimulations now left behind
The queen and drones wishing gone astray
For a sip of freedom and a new start.

Aromatics grazed in a buzz of curse
A soft cradled sun in a warm burst
Rocking fragrance in the azured skies
In liquefied reflections of droning surge.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2003

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 communication between two hearts
Flowered perhaps in meadows of grass
Sweet whispers stopped not
A song of soul on warm lips
Neither charm away nor stop now
The wonder of love in mind's crypts.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2003

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 pinioned 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.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2003

Touching Again

by Durlabh Singh

Having touched that the skies were gold
Having touched wanton winds carrying knives
Having touched that wandering eyes were sweet
And having touched the bitter taste of each smile.

Having touched the brindled blossoms
That speared the wings of each firefly
Having touched the gateways leading nowhere
And having touched vicarious verse which defies.

Having touched the meadowy slips of dew
Having touched the chaste hungers of bereft
Having touched the springs that kept murmuring
In adoration of cool waters in the mountain clefts.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2003

Scripted Song

by Durlabh Singh

I am a scripted song
Divested of applause
Connotations or comforts
For a tribal dialogue.

On the sinews of the waltz
A sudden seizure of the heart
In the drunken yards of memory
Some junket assemblage of history.

From the waves in glistening
I will take languid listening
From frozen battered lungs
For the heels or for tongues.

Crossing horizons with the gathered reeds
Broken pilgrimage amid hollowed deeds
Forging the entangled self in some dire dirge
Giving liberty to harvests of the golden verse.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2003

Grow Fingers

by Durlabh Singh

And I grow fingers and thumbs to write more
The verses that do not follow straight lines
But zigzagging under the open skies
In chromed yellow sunlight
In canopy of the trees
Of the emerald green.

Deserts there are, heat exhausted creatures
Which demand to know the arrival of dawn
Within the hot sandy dunes loneliness resides
Seized in sounds of silences the wind sighing.

Winters I have seen, in interiors of people
Where motions are frozen in frigid bonds
And down pours from dark clouds echoes
The deaths of the moths on the frozen ponds.

Today I speak from depths of the being
From slits in roofs, from broken charades
From blood soaked minds under the bullets metallic
Or women singing their songs in mud soaked paddies.

Run with syrup on my parched lips
Or disappear in the immensity of the seas
Rain forested creatures wormed of nights
In wakeful of the myths for mutterings in dawn.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2004

Chief Seattle—Address

by Durlabh Singh

You asked me to
Sell my land
How could I sell my land
It would be like
Selling my mind
Selling the skies above
Presences in the airs
Sparkle of the waters
Memories in dark woods
Green meadows and
Sounds of humming bees.

Where sentry trees guarding the mists
Ghostly reflections of the sandy shores
The sap that runs through pine needles
The blood that courses through my veins
The heats generated by the shaggy pony
And my brothers bear, deer and the eagle soar.

The rivers are my brothers
They quench my thirst, they feed me
Show me kindness, live my life
Feel me heal me bathe me knead me.

The earth is my mother
She nourishes me flourishes me
Perfumes me with flowers
Feeds me with corn
Sings me lullabies
Feels me in her pain
Renews me clues me with mystery.

Do not force me to sell the spirits
My mother earth my brother river
My sister wind the sap in my brain
Gods of my visions heaven Striven
All my shores and the forest frames.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2004