Creation and Criticism

ISSN: 2455-9687  

(A Quarterly International Peer-reviewed Refereed e-Journal

Devoted to English Language and Literature)

Jan 2017

Five Poems of R K Bhushan


R. K. Bhushan (1947) at Kartarpur in Jalandhar District of Punjab has a very rich and fulfilling experience in the diverse academic and professional environment for about 45 years. Prof. Bhushan, also known as Raghukul Bhushan, is a well-known creative writer, poet, critic, a short story writer and a book reviewer and an editor; he has published five Indian English Poetry books, two books of criticism and a book of short stories. He is well-researched as a book of critical essays on his poetry, R. K. Bhushan: His Poetic Vision and Critical Sensibility has been edited by Dr. Shaleen K Singh with a Foreword by Dr. Tejinder Kaur, Professor, Punjabi University, Patiala. At present, he is engaged in revising the manuscript of his novel, Ruins in the Palace; and busy completing his book on Personality Development. He can be contacted at rkbhushan@yahoo.co.in.



1. Ages Lost In Groping

 

I want to walk

to the spot

where Socrates,

having drunk

the awarded poison,

lumbered and fell!

 

The effulgent Sun,

its rays dancing in all directions

in the eternal flood of light,

had madly lighted, lit and sublimated

the whole of his being.

And he saw the world!

 

He ventured out

to clear the mists

and cleanse the dust,

and even hit the pitch dark,

that eternally envelopes this place.

 

Lo! The darkness thickened,

even grey mists vanished

blinding the Invisible;

the eternity of effulgence

stood blinded!

 

The Spot, the Socrates, the Sun

are lost in groping

the dark rationality-

belying and betraying

the Divinity!

 

I’m drunk deep

with the same poison

and lumbering for years

with no spot of the spot

in sight!

 

 

Perhaps the poison

is not pure

or

I have achieved immunity!

 

2. To Apollo 

 

The richest

and the only

source of light of the world,

Sun-

the Mother of all arts and aesthetics,

sciences and life-sustaining energies,

it shows and reveals

the world to the world

in all fairness, beauty and honesty.

 

Still the world

loves to live in the dark-

and delights in

intensifying the dark-

painting life with patches,

defining, redefining and recreating

to reform

its concept of light,

its choice of light,

confusing light with light

in chaotic sight,

delighting in mischievous flights

to enrich and enhance

imbalances!

 

O Lord SUN,

You have eternally nurtured,

all creativity;

then why this negativity

and depravity?

 

Your light dimming,

your colours fading?

 

They are envisaging

multitudes of your substitutes

in the ages to come!

 

3. Futile

 

There are times,

sometimes,

when,

the sense of futility

and frivolity

becomes futile

and frivolous.

 

The state of flux,

in the mind

is stuck up

and refuses to flow!

 

Something emerges then

to take

unshaped shape

rooted in

the seen, the unseen,

moving in kaleidoscope.

 

Nothing seems non-plussed

in the chaotic experiences

splashing their own colours-

light, bright, dark and medium!

but the sense of futility

wakes up

to make it more futile

and frivolous!

 

4. Back To Roots

 

Clinging to the past

blocks and blinds

the vision of the future;

the glamour of links

is irresistible.

 

Intellectual pursuits

are individual

even if the persons and the places

in the surroundings,

in the vicinity,

are uninspiring,

dull as the pond.

 

Vigorous pursuit

of the pursuits

for long, long years,

was unwelcome

and even scoffed at.

this scandalous neglect

delighted and easily pushed them all up!

 

It did yield

enviable potential-

personal and professional-

and did cause 100% burns

to the termite-eaten

men, minds and morals.

blissful darkness

was their sole, soul, blessing!

 

Writing off the conscious self

and going down

into the regions

of the unconscious

became a conscious choice.

 

Destination we reach

may not be our choice

but the paths trodden

remain ours!

What a fulfillment!

 

It is there

that the haunting desire,

a natural yearning, intervenes

to return to the roots,

woke up, may be none is there

to take care!

 

After the long unending travel,

I’m seeking earnestly

on the alienating patchy and broken

paths leading nowhere,

a turn, a u-turn,

or even t

to shun the dismal

and disgusting dread-

and harness the high-rising tide,

in clear sight!

 

Of course, not an illusion!

to keep mobile,

even in stagnation,

is the loud message

even from the off-tracks

obstructing the reach

to the soul

and the SELF!

 

5. The Artist

 

His harvest is always rich.

He leads us into the fields-

unknown, ungrown

and far-off.

Our curiosity growth

is unstoppable;

patience doesn’t exhaust.

 

He begins sowing;

while our eyes-

fixed and moving-

watch the ground-

hard, pebbled and grassy.

Sounds murmurous,

Buzzing and whizzing,

cracking and crowding,

keep laying their trap.

 

Soon the curiosity

and inquisitiveness

begin to blossom

into an unfading smile

and soul’s ecstasy.

 

Ages question and answer

to help their plight!

But no!

Inexhaustible remains inexhaustible:

nothing disillusions-

beauty blushes and harvest hushes!