Poems by K K Srivastava

[K K Srivastava]

flaws
still I owe you a debt
relation a worthy gift
let us look into the rift
your perfection makes you a woman

how many times I can run away
reason not lovelier than thee
knowledge not loftier than thee
penetrating you not a diversion
you rise-a higher, culminating stage

your eyes move,
I am freaked out
what is so immoral
in my longing for your hips
or in my kiss lingering on your lips

searching the truth
behind throttled dreams,
life’s celebrations: dizzy zeniths
there heave in torridity
mute memories

your breasts
pristine peaks of purity
eternal realm of resplendent
unresolved vicissitudes of solace
bringing life to me and me to life

I probe an infinitude
the silence of crescent
the exile of your existence
between the night and the morning
love interferes with depths

the wind outside wants to hear
what transpires inside
within the boundaries of night
what reveals what
emerges this poem.

[PrinceMyshkin]

There is undoubted ardour in this, but it is a mistake to use the archaic "thee" alongside the more contemporary "you" and the colloquial "freak out".

[Buh4Bee]

Gee, I just got slapped on the write for writing this way too. But Prince is right.

[K K Srivastava]

Waves of illusions;
ocean of their vacuum
things are so clean
you need no purity,
devils- our strength
helping us meditate
our words of wisdom
never fall on the ground.
What allures us—
we don’t know
the unified entity
standing as a separate life
engulfed by unfamiliar routes,
an ever-interrupted reality
of hopes/despair stand erect.

[K K Srivastava]

Out
from where
and for what
our deserted procession begins.

[K K Srivastava]

There are citadels
enveloped in blurred sight
someone is waiting for us
sometimes-walking up and down
that someone have no legs
it has unhurdled existence
it is indestructible
it is invisible
it pulsates within us-no sounds
we wander haphazardly
since time immemorial
to seam our ashen anxieties
but is it true our eyes have
cheated us.

[K K Srivastava]

Are we in delirium?
Carl Jung tells us yes.
In delirium creators create:
they write poems; short or long
imprisoning the entire
in the grip of tiny partials
to salvage the armless poet
from the inexplicable illusions.
On a plain sheet of paper
spreads the entire universe
what you perceive as movement
I perceive as void and still
vexations surround us, seize us
we are afraid of the fear of fire.

[K K Srivastava]

When you face life
you face death too
you realize the war of
instincts within
and you cherish nocturnal glee
you feel the pulse of madness
madness is no enemy of intelligence
or of conscience: madness
makes you perfect.
Look at Elizabeth Bishop
look at Sulvia Plaith,
or Eliot or Pound
or Poe or one of consequence
and you know what good poetry
is all about.
It are ruminations: threads
in deep thoughts
evolved there; during recapitulation
in mental asylum.

[K K Srivastava]

Let us enter another world,
every time we wake up to a
new reality
we don’t know what is happening
there you have wild music,
silent agitation, sheepish laughter
curves and shapes dancing violently
a strange, hostile, antagonistic crowd
play with their destiny.
They have time and space frozen
inside them
no dearth of symbols filling emptiness
the show goes on;
it must move
the disorderly images integrate
all of us: sum up all of us.



.

[K K Srivastava]

The sea, with a heavenly face, and kissed by the stars,
With haunting conches in unpriced trimmings
In their depths, with a golden dawn,
Flourished by the sun of the combed sunset.
How amazed am I, o you sea, by your holy quietness,
That way, as with erotic joy, affectionately, you caress the pebbles
With an erotic pleasure you are tossed without hurry
And you caress your dress of blue color in a heady way!
And the sober people like emeralds are fragmented,
scattering hither and thither
And the waves get fragmented crowned full of effervescence,
Your breasts, as they tear, they get struck by the lighting,
The mystery is great and unexplained to me.
How do you restrain yourself, O Sea, billowing wildly?
How you don’t cross the boundary,
God has determined?
Ah, were it possible, were I capable,
My anger not burst out in East and West!
__________________________________________________ ____________
Note: To select nine best poems out of seventy for an international event at Albania, I was nominated to head a jury with Shri Aju Mukhopadhya, a well known poet and Shri Nibir Ghosh, Professor of English Literature, Agra University as members. The above one was the best we selected and recommended to the organizers. As it happens name/place of the writer are not informed to the jury. Readers may enjoy the poem.

[JBI]

Look, you always pop on here, and post poems, and I always post the link to the other forums. By now you aught to know that "Read before posting" means read before posting, and you don't need people to spell out that this isn't the personal poetry section.

[Wendy M]

Well I find this Poem absolutely stunning, very well constructed, a great pleasure to see this KK...

[Wendy M]

This is truly fascinating, I love the Imagery, depth is stunning, something for me to give analysis! Well done...So glad that I have had the chance to read this. Sublime work

[Wendy M]

Other than the previous comments...

Personally I believe this is Beautiful work....:0

[lobanw]

I agree I think people on these threads genuinely enjoy poetry and even if a personal poem is placed in a different section, it should still be enjoyed and respected. After all, the sunset heading was interesting enough for you to click on to open the thread in the first place so why not just take a few more moments of your time to enjoy the "thoughts about the sunset"!