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Proem
I believe in reason, In free will, In science, In human stupidity, And in the magic of love. I believe we are slaves Of our habits, Our desires, our biases. I believe our decisions Are mostly automatic, Bypassing reason. I know science casts doubts About free will, And flirts with Determinism, But that negates Our individual responsibility. I have doubts about Fatalism, About pre-determined destiny, As they contradict The concept of divine justice. I believe we can change things If we have a burning desire To change, remain persistent, And are willing to face failures. One needs thousand pages book, An encyclopaedia, to explain Such complex beliefs. This is my Proem. (14/04/22) (Poet's Espresso Review- USA- 2022) ©drjal02, © https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ Emptiness
When you carry the sack of your emptiness in your heart, and make desperate attempts to fill your stabbing void: you end up mixing with the wrong people, in wrong places, in wrong beds, around the wrong tables; you start ignoring setting healthy boundaries in your interactions; you start drinking, smoking, buying, the wrong stuff for the ephemeral pleasures; you start carrying the ghosts of your past into your every interaction. Until you realise you are falling into a deeper abyss, filled with the guilt, with the shame; and someone nudges you to go into your own-self and explore your inner world; until you find a bigger purpose, work persistently towards your goals, learn to regulate your emotions; and someone discovers the treasure of pearls and rubies in the basement of your soul; until you find a way to untie your wings and fly in the spacious sky of a nourishing love; you will find yourself, repeatedly, failing in weaving the delicate bond of healthy, fulfilling, enduring relationships. (a small poetic attempt to highlight the maladoptive and healthy ways to deal with chronic emptiness) ©https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ Like a poem
Sitting in a cafe Of a hotel lobby, I read her patiently Like a Rumi poem. Her every feature, well Aligned, stimulates An imagery, evokes desires, Infuses longing. Her smiles, dimples, Playful eyes, The vanilla scent Of her skin, The dexterity Of hands, lips, and tongue, The colour of her eyes, The curl of her back, All crafted, perfectly, together Like the stanzas of a poem. Her every glance, Every laughter, The sound Of every syllable, like a metaphor, Enough to ignite the fire Of my imagination. (Poet's Espresso Review- USA-2022) ©https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ Time is going to come
When we will cruise smoothly, In self-driving cars, watching Our favourite TV shows Projected straight into our eyes At the command of our voices; When everything will be under the close watch Of unblinking eyes, Unmanned robots and drones; When our doctors, lawyers, Accountants and bankers, Will be replaced By labour-saving algorithms Running on smart machines; When we will enjoy reading Poetry, and novels, Written by AI machines; When our likes, and dislikes, Strengths, and imperfections, Emotions and little secrets, Will all be digitalised by big corporates; When we all will be nudged, By smart machines, to choose Specific cars, houses, Jobs, and partners; When the keys to the house Of our souls Will be operated by digital corporations; When we will be mere digital slaves, With an illusionary free will, in the hands Of giant digital firms. (The Beautiful Space- A Journal of Mind, Art and Poetry 2022) ©https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ It hurts
It hurts that I can't watch you grow On a daily basis. How you put on your uniform, Gel your hair, Play rugby, And excel at school. Every day I imagine, listening To your stories, advising you About the road ahead, Watching you smile. How we splash, as allowed By the people, our grey sky With bright colours. How we fill the rooms Of our hearts, the hands Of our souls, With the seeds of happiness, And yearning. How I watch the time Coil like a snake Around the weary wings Of the life. How I watch dark clouds, spread Across the sky Of my mind, enter my house. It hurts that vast continents, Sky kissing mountains, Bottomless seas, back breaking Flights, have been placed, Mercilessly, between us. (2016) ©️ https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ A patient note
I am in a hospital: dressed in a hospital gown, reclining in a bed of pain, aware of an irritating catheter draining the pink urine into a bag; the city skyline illuminates my room window; I scroll down the pictures, the people, in my phone; an absence fills the shelves of my mind. I pine for simple things, like piddling, like washing, in privacy, with dignity. (07/03/2021) (Setu Literary Magazine- USA) ©https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ |
PoemsThese poems have been previously published in various literary journals, magazines, books and anthologies around the globe including the UK, the USA, India, Ireland and Canada.
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