Photo by Inja Pavlić on Unsplash
poem: Noise of life
The last autumn leaf now falling
And drifting towards alien lands,
Barren boughs of the maple tree
Shivering in the wind’s cold clasp,
Besotted moths still chasing flames,
Days seeking nights pursuing days,
Man-made motors moving everywhere,
People searching for nothingness,
And even you, moving on now,
Away from the canvas we dreamt!
Through windows you left open, I see,
The universe is moving,
Parading this motion in each whit
Of matter in its vast kingdom,
Prodding me to unfreeze my soul
At the edge of this cliff of pain
And let it fall, thunderously roar
For every whit of matter here
To listen, celebrate and dance to
The sheer noise of my life, again!
poem: Bloom
Just like that
You set me free.
In a snap.
No scarred iron bars,
No defaced walls,
No tired, muted chains,
No maimed locks.
None of that coldness,
That throbbing silence
That hurt us both.
No more drama
No more farcical struggles.
You gave me
What I always wanted,
Dreamed, sought after.
Freedom. It’s here now
In full bloom.
I inhale it all –
Clear blue skies,
A smiling Santa-like sun,
White feathered wings,
An always perfect breeze,
All gardens in bloom
In all seasons.
Yet, something’s amiss here.
In this wallpaper
Ready to rip anytime
With one touch
Of a famished hand,
Like it hides
A void bigger than
What we carried.
I make no movement.
I still rationalize,
Hush the vociferous heart,
And explore directions.
You are not around
To seek answers.
Standing in the middle
Of infinite space,
I begin to imagine
Iron bars, walls…
And once in bloom,
These past confines,
Life, a habit,
Sneaks back to me.
poem: A Soul’s Wandering
Have you seen me?
I haven’t returned since we met
To this home of intricately arranged
Beams of bones and walls of flesh,
Artfully done decor of fake smiles,
Warm civilities and a scent of life,
State-of-the-art automatons placed
To sustain the de rigueur chore of living,
And a leading-edge fog screen that
Hides the cluttered emptiness inside.
The home that I inhabited for so long
Is still here where it always has been,
Within the fences I built and mended,
But I am missing now, since we met.
Have you seen me?
It was that usual, intoxicated evening.
Standing on the terrace of my home,
I was, as is my wont, looking at the star
That hides behind a thin sheet of cloud,
Expecting it to throw itself as a lightning,
Be the spark my dark home and I need,
It was then I saw you – the star, the spark,
With hair dyed in the orange of sunset,
Eyes that seemed to hold the holy grail
Of all that I can ever need and more,
And a grace that seemed to permeate
And engulf the universe spontaneously!
It was then I was last seen, when we met.
Have you seen me?
You are the ocean; you are the sky –
I must have fallen into the depths
Where you hide so many worlds, unknown
To those who only seek what meets the eye,
Where you chisel the spirits of the to-be born,
Or I must have lost myself in the heights
Where you shelter and provide wings
To those that are broken and yearn to fly
Across the rainbows of your embrace!
Have you seen me?
The cracks in my home are seeking attention,
The emptiness is beginning to leak,
A case of missing person is spreading.
You need to fish me out from the depths
with the net of your eyes,
Or pull me back from the heights
with the touch of your fingers,
Breathe me back into my home,
Or allow me to stay inside you forever
And let this futile home fade away!
Will you return me or hide me within you?
The choice was never mine.
Mugu Ganesan is an enterprise operations consultant and an emerging poet based out of Minneapolis, Minnesota. He writes poetry in English and Urdu. He has attended poetry classes at The Loft Literary Center, taken acting classes at The Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis and has been a portrait photographer. Through his words, Mugu strives to express all that comes with being human, based on his life experiences across cultures, continents and languages.
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 
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