जब तुम्हारी आंखें सपने देखती हैं, तो मैं तुम्हारा सपना देखता हूं।

मैं उन्हें करीब से देखता हूं, उस बिंदु के करीब जहां वे मेरी भौंह से मिलते हैं।

आपका सपना फट जाता है। मैं अब तीसरी आँख हूँ

अपनी भौहों के बीच दर्ज,

सुखदायक, शांत,

अपनी पलकों के रहस्यमयी साये में छुपकर,

अंदर की ओर खींचा, मैं देखता हूं, मैं पीछे हटता हूं

अपने मन की रहस्यमय चुप्पी में।

 When your eyes dream, I dream of you.

I watch them move close, closer to the point where they meet my brow.

Your dream explodes. I am now the Third Eye

lodged between your brows,

soothing, calm,

hiding in the mysterious shadows of your eyelids,

drawn inward, I watch, I retreat

into the mysterious silence of your mind.

 A lunar mist spreads its wings,

subtle but frail,

a lotus floats in the unearthly hour,

into the twilight sky.

The hours of the night have passed,

but the dawn is far.

The spirit roams in the delight of the freedom

over the saffron field.

A grip is felt on the hand.

A voice hails from behind the veil

of the misty dawn.

A horseman rides away,

a gallop and a sway

a smile dawns

on the lips of the horseman as he speeds.

"I come back, embedded in the seed

of a new current of an enchanted life,

neither too soon, nor too late,

for there is a time appointed for birth and the end".

Sushama Karnik

Mar 6, 2017

GOOGLE.COM

Image: Horseman Going Away High Res Stock Images | Shutterstock

Found on Google from www.shutterstock.com

A lunar mist spreads its wings,
subtle but frail,
a lotus floats in the unearthly hour,
into the twilight sky.

The hours of the night have passed,
but the dawn is far.
The spirit roams in the delight of the freedom
over the saffron field.

A grip is felt on the hand.
A voice hails from behind the veil
of the misty dawn.
A horseman rides away,
a gallop and a sway
a smile dawns
on the lips of the horseman as he speeds.

"I come back, embedded in the seed
of a new current of an enchanted life,
neither too soon, nor too late,
for there is a time appointed for birth and the end".

Sushama Karnik
Mar 6, 2017

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The sunburst

 The feel of the slender glass of wine,

the thought of lifting and putting it to lips,

the open book has so much to say,

but let it for some time bask in the sun. This sunset is

the time of indulgence and winding your way

thru the scent of the wine and the thought of

what the pages might say.

Sushama Karnik. 30-05-2021

Raindrops, come, I long for you
with the longing of the oceans,
the river's dry beds,
the peacocks thousand eyes,
looking for the colour missing from the plume,
Come without thunder, with no lightening streaks of a surprise;
come heavy with love that cannot be contained long.

Let each drop be bound
in undivided strength
that will cut through rocks and the avalanche melt.

The fire has been razing to the ground
the trunks and the branches;
the ice has been of a white blue flame

Between the fire and the ice the universe swings
and no lullabies the ocean sings
can put to sleep
the child crying,

The nights are dark when the child cries,
and no fairy-tales, however divine
can put a child to sleep.

Rain, you know how the earth yearns
when your long absence burns
the soil and the fields
and the thirsty birds.
Shield and cover the crust of the earth from the callous mockery of the sun.

Sushama Karnik. (c)

The image was Originally shared by Hector Merced - 12 comments on this post on G+

The Yerres, Rain - Gustave Caillebotte

 Givenchy and Audrey Hepburn in Paris, c.1980s

The winter fog followed around

as those two walked along,

anonymous.

In that closeness was a warmth;

their hands were deep in the coat pockets,

they barely touched each other.

Pensive, some sadness,

some thoughts, some dreams

made a confluence of moods

on her face which carried

the marks of time.

She looked down at the road,

and he listened intently,

as if they were standing still

on the cliff of a hill

measuring the immensity of time

on the road they walked.

Sushama Karnik

GOOGLE.COM

Image: In the Trenches: Celebrity Trench Coats Through the Years | Audrey ...

Found on Google from www.pinterest.com

May 14, 2015

Originally shared by Sushama Karnik

A rose when sunk in a bed of thorns
asked the thorn to leave its scented bed and sing a song
The thorn picked up the lute and sang
a toxic song that took a wing
and ascended the heaven.
Seeing silence all around
the thorn descended and arrived in hell.
There were chaos and applause all around.
the hall of Dunces, full of ovation,
made an amalgam of drunken glee and a violent ecstasy.
Hours blended with moments and moments made years of degenerate fancy
and the thorn remained imprisoned in the jail of sycophancy.
When awakened out of the inebriate joy,
 the thorn switched back to the memory of the rose.
Away, in a different sphere, there was a lake in the twilight gleam,
carrying in its heart a forgotten song, the scent of a different dream.
The memory of the thorn was erased forever.
A silent lake slept in the arms of the moon.

 This tree was planted in ancient soil.

Its roots have dived deep.

The citadels grew around the tree

in much later times.

Braving the storms and the shifting seasons,

the tree and the citadels grew together,

casting shadows on each other.

Over time, the reins of power changed hands.

Generations came and passed

but the edifice stood and the tree watched,

standing firm and steady

through the years of intermittent sorrow and glory.

This is how hope is embedded in the soil.

It grows with time and learns to nurture the seeds,

the branches and the roots.

The edifice standing in the vigilant shadow

learns to adapt to change.

The tree, the archetype of Hope,

is the secret of the strength with which we build and shield.

The Dawn

 The dawn comes to the shore

washed back on the shoulders of a hefty storm,

spent, ignorant, innocent of what the storm is destined to do;

wreck and break the wings of the night.

Stars fade out when the white moon comes,

and the moon fades out with the wanton dawn

resting on the crest of the hill.

28-5-2021

The Trees

 The Trees

And then came the night when the sounds ceased.

The trees still, quivering, listening, sad;

the trees gentle, listening,far;

the trees swaying just a little, hardly seen, hardly felt,

their presence, a distilled drop of dew.

The night quailed, touched the tree and fell into peace

without longing.

Denuded of knowledge and strife,

the trees swayed,

and the leaves in a gentle surprise

called upon the wind

to break open the code

of the silence between the tree and the night.

Sushama Karnik (c)

 Saffron crushed

between your palms;

the mystique of vineyard all around,

the garments smell of the rain-soaked soil,

and in you hair, the wisps of smoke

of the incense that burnt all night.

The wind-swept trees huddled together

as the storm howled and blew out the lamp.

It was a night without the moon.

But a single star shone all along;

brighter than the crest of the moon and lighter than

the step of a child learning to walk.

Older than the echo in the cave,

your words sounded on that night to me.

The grave tones warned,

Storms greater than what you see tonight

have been witnessed by the humankind.

Put thy little lamp under a shield

and chant the magic of the memory of my name;

I am more than the name; I am the shield;

absorb this knowledge into your dreams,

and as you walk the path you will know

you are never alone.

Sushama Karnik

 A Prayer

Give me a hillside,

clean and green ,

a space with an immense light.

Let the sea recede

back to the reach of the sky.

Let the light fall evenly

on the odd and the even

spaces of the mind

and then let me turn

and find again

the doors once locked and the key misplaced.

Let those doors crumble and fall

and show me the inside

just the way I had left it back in time.

Let the cry of the gull pierce the sky,

and the afternoon feel its pain,

the pain of the birds who left the nest,

forced to live in the ruthless sky.

Sushama Karnik (c)

PINTEREST.COM

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Sushama Karnik

7 July at 10:01 · 

Ebbing tide,
not the time to wait for a lover.
Just the moment out of time
to watch the eternal infinite,
intimate sea.
The keeper of your darkest moods,
your moments when you turned
to this spot where the evening says a farewell to the time;
the time that flows in haste
lest the rubble splash and clog its simple heart.

The ebbing tide leaves behind
the splinters that might hurt its own flawless moons
kept meticulously clean, awash on the crest of the storms.
The times when you threw yourself
heedlessly in the waves, receding, listless,
eager to hear you speak, nevertheless.
"No regrets, no looking back; nothing is sad and bleak."
The ebbing tide in a subdued whisper of the wind
merging with sound of the sea, seems to say the words
just for you to hear, a manifestation, just for you to see.

UNSPLASH.COM

Waiting for a lover | HD photo by Jonatán Becerra (@ionass86) on Unsplash

Download this photo in Puerto Saavedra, Chile by Jonatán Becerra (@ionass86)

Sushama Karnik

20 June 

Sushama Karnik

20 June · 

A place as cold as the winter moon,
a road as gray as the mist.
That was the time when the moist leaves
dropped from the maple trees

gathered and swirled in the wind.· 

and I reclaimed the peace
brought by a sudden kiss
of something that floated somewhere in the mind.
Places hold me forever close
and I let them be with me.
They brighten my way on a windy day.
The fragments of me scattered in the winter
come together;
I let them make me whole.

14Jay Dev, Tony Langmach and 12 others

17 comments

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  Andrea Béres When the face of the world changes from day to day, it remains immobile in us..Not the sun-shining sun can dry up the water and take life when it overheats. And there is nothing that can appear in the most stubborn harsh frost or the fog that has sprea…See more

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  Jayashree Chiparikar Superb Sushma Tai

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