Why should I be the rock?
Like the reckless flow
I would gush unstoppable.
Immovable, thick, stagnant knowledge –
You remain so.
Why do you dream
To make me your mate?
I will stretch the windy wings
Would dance the stormy play
As the withered leaf.
With your glares and distractions…
Why do you come to trap me?
May golden grains shower
From your fist to golden fields
May my wings get drenched
In the in the sky-rending monsoons.
(Flight by Jaydeep Sarangi)
From SILENT DAYS
Like the reckless flow
I would gush unstoppable.
Immovable, thick, stagnant knowledge –
You remain so.
Why do you dream
To make me your mate?
I will stretch the windy wings
Would dance the stormy play
As the withered leaf.
With your glares and distractions…
Why do you come to trap me?
May golden grains shower
From your fist to golden fields
May my wings get drenched
In the in the sky-rending monsoons.
(Flight by Jaydeep Sarangi)
From SILENT DAYS
FOR MY FRIEND AT NIMBIN
ReplyDelete(For Rob Harle , an artist and writer from NSW, Australia)
--Jaydeep Sarangi (jaydeepsarangi@gmail.com)
It’s my dream,
To be on the banks of the Northern Rivers
North of Lismore and west of Byron Bay.
For me, small rivers of the mind
Hold the truth,
Pointed sharp at the core of things.
Under the blue umbrella
And the land of red soil.
It invites my native own
To sail through the Sydney Harbour.
As connecting two continents
With an arrow of hope.
My friend’s large heart can swallow
The whole painted world
Of art, poems and rhymes.
In indigenous ink.
Like the reckless sweet flow of Beas in the upper Himalaya
He would gush unstoppable
Love floods
In mundane deserts.
We are wet and connected
In the wire of harmony.
Time Passes
ReplyDeleteJaydeep Sarangi (jaydeepsarangi@gmail.com)
Blog : http://authorjaydeepsarangi.blogspot.in/
Rolling Time has become reflection
Of my petty little corner of mind,
The silent underground in the barrels of bones.
A restless leaping from fad to fad
I have found the other extreme
Where I can taste the stories of inescapable memory
Punctuated within my native own
Grown over a period of years
But unknown to me
Will it be so
If the windows are shut?
In a chilly winter morning
Do I ever expect the sun
And a black swan
In a misty morning in Perth
When you and me are two different islands
Separated by years
One reflecting the other.
MY PRIDE
ReplyDelete-Jaydeep Sarangi
My words
Are expressions of pride
Which eat up my energy in daily acts
Of going there
And coming in
For unnecessary means .
When I stop
The clock ticks fast
As I lag behind the schedule.
My readings and random thoughts
Make me wild
As the cloud hovers around my neck.
You and I both walk past an old clock
When my lines move hearts.
The stone speaks for a community
And the land.
You could break me to pieces
Soluble in water
As my proud birth drags me back to grass.
I wonder if I could be part of you.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteIt is nice poem and short !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Gongratulations !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI am a little embarrassed that I asked what you wrote on Facebook. Your poetry is beautiful...I am shocked and dismayed I have not heard of it before. There is still a HUGE gap in access to multicultural and multinational literature in the US. But, now I know your books and can track them down...hopefully on Amazon! Thank you for asking to friend me on Faceboook. I can't live without poetry!
ReplyDeleteI Live for My Daughter
ReplyDelete-Jaydeep Sarangi
Being part of the dream of my land
All I feel
Is loneliness and pain;
Private.
I’m red with their long glory,
Blue when hungry, the refugee, the child labourer...
My random thoughts blow away
Old proverbs and idioms
With vibes of education.
The glass is broken today.
My daughter’s doll is sad
Someone has taken away her freedom
Even on a Sunny day.
It wouldn’t rain today!
Probably, she will write for me.
Yes. Sarangi's poems perpetuate the
ReplyDeleteunique Message 'stay connected'.
Reading his poems stimulate an ongoing process
and create a web of
harmony into the like minded
witing clan with similar tastes and themes.
Appreciate the endeavour.
Poems drum up our hopes and aspirations. ...
ReplyDeletePoems drum up our hopes and aspirations. ...
ReplyDelete