Vision-ary

With the help of the light
that you emanate,
your blood and muscle 

turned glass,
and I a visionary.

Your topography,

as evident as a tree's,

has been studied diligently,

alike to the carefully painted strokes

of a practiced perfectionist.

The soil you grow on,

fertile today,
is profiled 

by sweat filled days,

characterized,

by the rich ebony of mud, 

that supports.

Nurtured, cultured

from a miniscule seed,

by branch and leaf 

you have grown.

Still, 

a past frame lingers.

Carried in the faint smell of hardwork

on your persona

and in the story

a soil epic,

demons digested

frustrations fermented

and malice manured

to productive compost.

You bear sweet fruit,

enchanting, 

yet no magic was found in its sugar

only traces

of wine like aging,

and dedicated parentage.

Years slip by,

in peering through

your glistening transparencies

before I reach

the meaningless rock,

the mere possibility,

that lay hiding

your master sculpture,

unsculpted and,

unappreciated

from the world.

Light Years Apart

Across the table
I sit at the other end
of the universe
separated by light years
of conversations never had,
times not spent together,
hearts not held together,
what we could never make well together
and i stare into the darkness
where the opacity deludes me
into thinking i knew you.
But today I space travel,
as we bond
over buttermilk.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Bewitched

In the stewing pot
love bubbles, frothing roses with 
strains of yesterday's conversation and
tinkling laughter, boiling,
mingling in the cheery company
of my own satisfactions,
my inward grins 
and childish whims. 

Eventually though,
it all boils down 
to traces of faces
lining the pensieve.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Asthachal

The sun's rays 
flatter the clouds
into a bright blush pink
that yellows, as his radiance spreads
outwards, makes me giggle
as I stare, unabashedly.

The branches of the trees
creep, inch towards the skyline
reach towards the cosmos
lazy, but loving
like soup.

The people are quiet 
on the outside
while their toes wriggling
feet tapping, fingers snapping
knuckles cracking, brains racking
suggest otherwise
to me.

So i sit at the platform
an aimless wanderer
a poet
and listen to the news
on the thought speakers, intently
watching carefully
as their trains of thought 
rattle out to new destinations.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Dear XX/XY

You are a variable

and it may be hard 

to come to terms with

but your number will come.

You will have good times, bad times

happy times, sad times

you will change.

There will be additions 

and subtractions

but your values can be infinite,

both rational and irrational

while your smile 

will go on like pi.

Sometimes your coefficients   

will make you big, sometimes small

but know that

you'll still be you

on the inside.

There may be other factors too

who will tip your equation

but don't worry,

they are always mistakes, inevitable

it is the learning that matters.

So learn,

find new angles 

of looking at boring circles

and never give up

especially when 

the problem is difficult.

And they will be

so when you lose heart

just remember

that I'll always be around

to make your life easier

a constant,

in the equation of your life.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

About her

A whirlpool, 

a collage
of color and light
that glows in 
scattered dark patches.

The swirls glitter and shimmer
they move and turn
in the fluidity of her being.
She's fickle and they twinkle
those eyes
when she laughs. 

The storm...In the end

It burns through everything
it clears out the mind
with violent flames
they burn yellow, red, blue.
They burn bright, luminous
illuminating complexity
cast out the difficulties
the flames,
they burn down everything.

Amidst the destruction
the soft, grey, black of the ash
fills the mind,
it consumes the air, polluting
the residue dark and dusty
suffocates, traps, clouds.

Eventually the dust settles
in tiny reflective particles
it floats down slowly
the rising sun
illuminates the wasteland
and the infinity of stars descend
down to the earth, come down
only to rise again.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

The Storm...

From the eyes 
like sharp glass shards
the tears flow.
In a never ending stream 
filled with despair
filled with anger, with hate
it burns through everything
it clears out the mind
with violent flames
they burn yellow, red, blue.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

True Predictions

The movements of my pen
align with the moments of thought 
like the moon with the earth 
and the sun with the stars.
The horoscope reads well 
for me today.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Stars

They talk to me,

the stars.

A guide, 

a prophet just for me.

In a sparkling utterance

they send their messages,

a flurry of incessant blinking

bright, dim, bright,

never tiring, 

never forgetting.

When the sun is bright 

or the clouds show their might

I know they are there 

the stars,

blinking bright, dim, bright

talking, guiding

always.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Banquet of Life

The soft fluffy dome above,
a protection.
The tall, royal mountains,
are kings.
The flora and fauna,
a feast.
We, we are just visitors,
to the banquet of life.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Grey

Grey is beautiful.
Nondescript yet stark
it is solid,
a vague solid.
Its beauty lies in its secret
one, which can not be told
only found.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Washed Out

Timing.
so crucial
and yet so cruel.

With a storm inside,
I face the storm outside.
Brace my self against
the sheets of rain
the electric lightning
and the booming thunder
that tell me I am wrong,
erode my reasoning.

I stand,
watching
as the structures that support me
flow away with the mud
I watch
as my senses are

overwhelmed
by the blues and the greys
overwhelmed 
by the song
and 

by the storm.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Orphan

What you take for granted

I do not have.

The warm voice and gentle hand

they wake you in the morning

they take you out to eat

they feed you, they treat you

they treat you with love, with respect

they care for you, 

they listen, don't they?

They are affectionate and kind

by default, 
they have to be.

You are blessed, I
I am not

you are lucky, 
I wasn't

your supports are strong

mine,

are dead.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Vulnerable

Once in the zero,
the one is amplified.
The one I ignored,
the one I pushed away,
the one who wins
the many ones, wins,
their existence forgets me.

In the quiet
with nothing to hide behind
the tears
always threaten to spill.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Ghost Cities

The demons tower tall
their minions
they drive the streets
the food is poisonous
the words senseless
the minds useless
use less, no?

Craving, greedy, hungry
souls they wander
ruthless, fruitless.

The air impossible to breathe
happiness impossible to feel
it's a terrible ordeal
will we ever,
ever really heal?

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Reflections

Hello, I said

to the reflection.
I was here 
passionate,
I was here
angry,
I was here,
quiet.
You were here 
with me,
and now I'm
here with you.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Tomorrow Hour

The ordinary clock
ticking, 
tick tock, tick tock.
My mind is held,
my body is wound

my key turned, 

to make me work.

I wait, helplessly,
for the hands to point,
to thirteen.

The mindlessness
is breaking me,
and in each rise and fall,
I only fall.
My limbs tire,
but my geared mind,
it just won't let go.

So I wait,
mechanically,
stuck in a today 

that will never end

and a tomorrow

that will never come, while the ticking,
it goes on, 
a sinister
tick tock, tick tock.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Slipping Reins

I can't calm down.

Stop,
I need time.

No, don't scream at me
I can't control it
I can't control my voice,
my words, my feeling.

They are slipping away
just out of reach
the chase, 
leaves me breathless.

I can't let them go
I need them,
I need the people
and my calm.

I can't breathe 
and they, they don't let me
and then it's gone
too far for me to catch,
leaving behind just me.

Just me,
my terror
my breathlessness
and the tears,
that won't flow.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Acknowledgement

Sitting amidst familiar,
I feel alien.
Bright lights, lively, life
shine onto everyone
yet I feel shadowed.
A hole a gap to be filled
remains empty, 
for days
neglected, ignored
but persistent, resurfacing
again and again.
I need space to be,
but sometimes the space 
is suffocating.
Fullness feels empty
and I crave for more
for something, 
that deep breaths let in,
it fills me up,
acknowledgment.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Two Sides of the Same Coin

We are so very small

so very insignificant

in a world 

bigger than our minds

are even capable of imagining.

Yet our every action 

is also capable of things 

much larger than our

minds are capable of imagining.

One word, one touch

can hold so much significance

that these acts  

they are our world.

They are telltale to

a deeper understanding.

Our significance and 
our insignificance

are simply two sides

of the same coin.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Tears in Rain

A proudy nature roars

and thunder strikes the earth.

The grey of the clouds

threatening to spill,

to cry out its tears.

Tears nourish

and yet they hurt.

The trees feel it,

they feel the grey pain 

of the clouds.

They are a solace  

to the howling wind,

the roaring thunder

to the weeping sky,

yet they threaten to collapse...

The tears in my eyes

they are our strength.

Stay strong,

I tell the trees.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Moving...

Life has to move,

like the stream.

It has to journey 

through hard falls,

through green valleys.

It has to house, unselfishly

other creatures

without polluting it's own waters.

When it gets stuck,

behind rocks and boulders

and begins to moss over,

to collect dirt,

It is reminded 

how important it is

to keep moving.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Immortal Cake

Sticky fingers greedily fumble

with a knife, fork, spoon

all for one
piece of cake.

The cake, now everywhere

seems to like the mouth

as much as the floor

and the delight 

on the face with the 

sparkling eyes

is in it's truest form 

a sign of 

youth.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Throneless

We roam the jungle 

feeling purposeful

but what are we here for...

To compete for a throne

a rule, where 
no one is ever

really king?

© Utsa Seth, 2018

A Dirty Mind

                                                                           

A clutter of thoughts

a mess of unwanted

trash,

of unwanted 

memories.

Oh, the quirks of a dirty mind.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Panic

Panic is like an atom bomb
that is almost impossible to stop
from exploding.
Once it starts ticking 
and the stress kicks in
thinking straight
seems to me 
a curved line.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Photograph

Smooth, fluid, fast
movement that begins and transitions
never ending
is frozen.
SNAP!

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Intruder

Intensely concentrated faces
focused on something.
Disrupting them is like
handing them guns
and pointing them in one direction,
At you.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

On The Tamarind Tree

She stands beneath me
as I sit on the tree
and sends up demands 
for sweet and sour tamarinds.

Unfortunately, every single one
is raw and green,
so I look down and shake my head.
She, 
then shakes her head at me
and walks away pouting

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Morning

As it comes out of its hiding place illuminating everything
misty glow, rays of the sun
green trees, looking beautiful
cheery, a new hue paints
a smile on my face.

Skies of blue, through the trees
through my eyes.
Falling hair frames my view
of blue, of green, of brown
unspoiled by grey.
I smile again.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Nonsense Poem

Nonsense poems are hard to write

believe me, I've tried...

We're sitting in a room,

in comes the broom,

it begins to sweep,

the dust makes me weep,

then comes the mop,

oh! please stop,

why are you so keen,

on making the room clean,

oh, what a chore,

cleaning is such a bore,

and now you've disturbed my sleeping,

with your irritating sweeping.

                                                         ∼ Utsa, Mahati, Anshika

Mom

Your big loving smile 
and that understanding embrace
you've always had my back 
no matter what the case.

I could always come to you 
in times of despair
you'd help with kind words 
and never compare.

Well dear mom
today is your day
and the love that we have
will never decay.

© Utsa Seth, 2018