Kuldeep Kumar Srivastava

Through the threshold of childhood, I limped towards the miracles of youth. On the horizon, passive but firm, saw I the eclipsing glimpses of worn out roots. The smoggy, seizing of the

I stood in an empty room but couldn’t find sun rising, air flowing, rains falling, winds blowing, sands flying, leaves drying, birds singing, moon sinking, stars falling, children

Broken time has no refined frames, obvious form, unmeasured contents; nothing of it frozen in historical frames. Broken time; no resurrection of withered

Feelings crowded in, splintering of the feelings, preciseness redefined. Passiveness of feelings, abject wilderness, earnestness, veil with glosses. Unfelt avalanche of dead feelings, an

Mankind, uncovered in it’s grandeur, long laments and their marvelous beauty, indelible marks on the heart.

The rhythmic occurrences wantonly meet, in complete isolation, prophesying the jerky arrival of hissing realities. Yearning for charmed disbeliefs swarms around, in utter disgrace, unnerving

Fragrance of words enlivens the dead fragrance of feelings. Fragrance of words enlivens the dead fragrance of reasons. Inside their seclusion, the words seize neither the beginning of the end

All through I noticed my insides being rolled out, a bleak desire overshadows me and I tell my tears to smile at their fate. Curvous desires do shrink, again and again, but my mirrors don’t

That plain queerness angers me, chases me, with it’s usual peripheries. I, a beggar, refuse to own them, for their sake, their blurredness keeps wandering along, for my sake. Scattered faces

Some moments come; they pass, still, they haunt us, defenselessly, for long, crossing all limits time places on us. In our rejoice, as in our mourning, these moments blind us from

Those, we don’t cherish to remember, come to us in our dreams; midnight dreams, knocking aloud, these wanted/unwanted, desired/undesired guests, deadly intruders, sitting on fuzzy

A tree outside the window, a bird inside it’s nest, they lived together a life, full of inward agility a trust. A house beside the tree a family inside the house, they lived together a

Oftentimes, frequented by our fluorescent inquest, stealthily, we rush around the boundaries; countless boundaries, seemingly erect like fearless monsters. To these boundaries, we go

Substantial things of life I sought when I was perilously wasted, and these came to me in plethoric numbers, incredulously. Plunging deep into the paradigm of rattlling, headless shadows, I

My dear friends, Fellow-travelers. Are we poets insane with our imperfections? Imperfections? Goodness cheap in poetry makes poetry brief in goodness. Imperfections and

From the very beginning, a thought tortures me, pains me, my fear of losing the relations I cherish to evolve. I fear, one day, on that path, not visible now, but I see it, clearly, very

Attachment to self. Detachment from self. And growing between them, indifference. T.S.Eliot completes his three conditions, conditions looking alike yet differing completely, flourishing “in

That meaningless figure surges his head again, unmindful of the presence of his peers. ...None feels surprised, now-a-days meaningless figures don\'t surprise us. Recent stories contain valueless

The gulf accentuates, here and far afield. Idle questions fill the gulf. Potentialities become infinitely conflicting. I fail to discipline my emotions my emotions,too sterile amorphous

In looking forward to meeting life fulfilling prophesies, we tread the lands that once impoverished us, as ruthlessly as we did when brute darkness refused to show us the way. My shadowy

Deep ecastatic uprisings relinquish their decaying innocence the intution talks of jarring egos ...inner equanimity blossoms to the core. Inclinations loiter around, the indistinct, the

Outlinnes become more and more tepid a sense of nothingness crowds these ...and crowds these elegantly. Someday these outlines would be writing myths and would expect me to kneel down. The

don\'t venerate depths now, i have overcome my inertia that enagmatic object fascinates ...me no longer, I have avenged my amnesia. that enknidling entity sates me perfectly, for that