Laxman Rao Poems

Maya …The very word is in sync
With enigma on our lands
As enigmatic as thy voice sounds
In thine words; as profound
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What would be the bards first & the final wish?
I suppose nothing but the prescience
Of a true mind absorbed
In imagery revealing its true form
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What's life? A query to put forth
An enigma to behold!
Life is nothing just
But another dream
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Every time… this happens to me -
Who's that! ! ! Who has it writ?
Knowing not… in its delight
It's my own voice; that had it said.
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To be a poet
You need to awaken your mind
In the mid night
Of the growing dark
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I've never written a word
Under the influence of my mind
As pure as the serene sense
My thoughts do flow.
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Variations of my mind
Perplexes the psyche of mine
Of those insecure moods
Which depict me moan.
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The pride of a poet is something I know;
As a peacock, that proudly fans its feathers
Personifying its perfect ways of dancing,
As the poet lost in its bliss-while reciting.
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The agony haunts the cerebral space
Wherein the mind wanders in its thick constraints.

Akin to the fog of the forest the mind wanders,
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The truth of joy
Is one such thing;
That doesn't keep me intact.
It gives me thrust
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