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बढ़ती बस्तियां... बदलती दुनिया...
बदहवास हवाएं... बेज़ुबां परिंदे..।।
✍️ अरूण लाल

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Tonight
In the silence of the dark sky,
I shall write poems
with words that shine
and twinkle in melody.

Each syllable
making up to a constellation;
now read me inbetween the stars.
For a change,
only me, you,
moon, sun and the stars alone
can understand our encryption.

Let the orbits be our shield
of strength.
Each shooting star,
pigeons of messenger.

Even as sun and moon witness,
let's create another Universe
through our poetry
that lasts for eternity.

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Her world,

The way she saw it,

Pigeon skeletons on the road side,

Fresh blood in the taps,

&

A deep indigo shaded sky left with only those stars,
which cannot grant wishes anymore...

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As the wind blows and flowers shower their ambience.
As the sun dims amidst the whimsical clouds wet with the golden charms
I gaze at the presence of those pigeons that still turn their white plumage.
Seeking home, seeking amity, their reveries all to a hold.
For the night that shrouds their delightful infancy and freckles their modesty.
Sinister nights, lethal fiends, doubly covered with clemency and eerie.
Waking up to the morning seems to be a lost fight.
Armours lie pierced, dignities left to sigh.
Pigeons fly, cope the unseen frights.
Still they long to soar high, amdist the dark they negotiate with the light.

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Eagles screech throughout the sky,
While Pigeons coo in their box homes.

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The pigeons would wait,
Every morning.
They'd utter no word,
Flutter no feather,
Till I sprinkle the grains.

They'd roam and juggle,
Just another move from jungle,
And get busy with the feast,
Unaware of the beast,
The cat that patrols,
My verandah on its rolls.

A sight of the beast
Would set the flight aflutter,
Leaving behind faeces, grain and litter.
They'd come back when quiet,
When cat sleeps after its diet.
Scarce grains,
Little brains,
Necks would swell,
Cooking maternal hell.

Shooed away by swollen necks
Of males who tend to lead,
Attended by no one,
No one to pay heed.

Not humans, just pigeons,
But it's a patriarchal society.

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Induced by a spell of a witch or was it?!

Daylight of summer seemed darker,
Over the park hovered the cloak,
Narcissistic pessimistic parkour,
Outrageous actions with a stick in a hand,
To take a life from a life, killers stand.

Longingly gazing at the clouds,
Infused with killer stincts in eyes,
Kicked and bogged down by the crowds,
Envying the devilish cloak in despise.

Pretentiousness won't help in deal,
Infidel, witchy Miguel won't reveal,
Gruesome death won't help ordeal,
Egoist witch tried in vain to squeal,
Opaque or illusion, is made an appeal,
Never shed off pieces in a zeal,
Show mercy or kill, but don't ever feel.

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Have a glimps of these
cute little kids ...
pigeon baby on my
window sill
........

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