not just any old mead

subject on canvas

mat

simple, no lines

no wide rules

no narrow bands

of creation to interrupt

the art

as the creator draws one final

scene

a man weaving a dream spiral

in the black crush of a blue ocean

at night

and then morning falls on the canvas

bright, cool

simple

in a sketchbook from my fathers

i would draw that if i could

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

here inside these new walls

considerable weight

burdens our frail shelter

of stored up tranquility

and borrowed mortar

measurable times

sullied by crafty pirates

of solid amorality

and furrowed brows

i stand not to shroud it

i stand not to pretend

i see some pretense of purity

and the walls crumble

to be raised again?

"perhaps," said the vassal

but then the house will

always be just a house

and never again

a castle

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

dusk canticle

never tell me anything
painful or
show me anything searing
to the eyes
never mention the mediocrity of your
stillborn dream
wait until I'm ready to listen
and my wine is poured
to speak truth or don a mocking
laugh
i serve no servant other than
time
i give no mention other than to
his wife
let the dinner bell stop
and let the carousel wheel circle
for I am missing my daily amusement
also known as your demise

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

blood from love

some say time matters not
when love happens
perhaps the elixir is too strong
perhaps the ticking of the clock too soft
tick tock tick tock
no more reality
nor space for sanity
only the frail smile
that comes but does not go

with love
ruins glow but fail
rivers are rapid but willful
for it seems we give back
cupfuls of love like rain
on april's new window
porous cover, the heart,
takes that murky bath
when love happens
though it seems
for better or worse
blood flows

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

today's royalty

lift up the phone
and call the king
let him know
you've lost your way
and he'll save you yet
this is what they do
kings and queens of today
give you reason to love
their mending ways
for this they want your soul
a little love
a little loyalty
that and some more
a little love

goes a long, long way

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

bond

forged

in a cold sweat

teased by solidarity

we grow old

wither

and sense something

not so distant

tugging at our shirttails

begging for a final

bit of mercy

and then we separate

one last time

not out of sadness

or gloom

or even love

but just because

we can

making us human

if not inhumane

and broken

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

the soul next door

cold snaps

my iron will

into narrow shards of glass

beveled by the fierce wind

the souls seeks more depth

more warmth

to put itself

back together again

so it can, amen,

render its owner whole

at peace

more substance than less

but never more than the soul

next door

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

a new peace

a new peace

forged in common purpose

borne by an endowment

like no other

wound tightly by rope and

lights strung together in hope

a new peace shatters

a growing discontentment

that some seem to bear

even though, today and tomorrow,

we all breathe the same air

we all retain the same share

of life

one

no one better than the next

no home less beautiful

and no god less bountiful

in his or her love

this is a new peace

that i wish for all

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

view into the crater

from Spring's temperate wind

to the visage of old man Winter

standing at the rim of deep void

in nary an hour

from heaven to hell

an ascent of all things

never a dull moment,

Mother Nature

never a sense of boredom

or a stage bereft of actors

but there is only forward motion

whether it be for good

or for bad

up the mountain we go

hoping only that the other side

brings a downhill slope

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

time immortal?

a year of pictures

black, white

some in color

washed with anger

fear

'nointed in sunburst

some but not many

her smile dazzles each time

fleeting, here in my hand

something tells me life

is more than still frames

and the gross errors of our way

it is a beating heart

a train up a mighty hill

a snowdrift in june

the melodrama of new life

until the shutter closes one last time

and the flash dims

the faint smell of filament

leaves the room

and all is just as it was

when we began

opaque

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

some call it love

lamplight dances

gingerly as the maiden

forms a statue

for all to see

johnny come lately's

dabbling in and out of

conscious lust

a lust which

evades them

a sense of yearn

that gives them new breath

that keeps them dodging

the shadows at home

more or less

this is the animal

turned human

and with each bill

his right to harmony

exists

still, then a flurry

a waltz of shame

for some

a dance for liberty

for others

love for all

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

passing through

a cool morning

songs in monotone

colors not - orange, red, gold

the sun rises, the banks give way

oars hit the water, bold

placid becomes scorned

leverage remains fleeting

my vessel cuts through the water

no hint of solace, no restless beating

no forgiving wake

the oars rest, the earth sighs

i cup nature in my leathery hands

and i give my heart to the lake

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

sleep with the soul

a soul in the bottom of a well

no light shone, no voice sank so low

only the cool stream of regret and anticipation settled

deep within its brick and mortar

deep below the waterline

a mind in the section of a wall

little light, little music to arouse it

only the falsetto of pageantry

and tremolo of courage

to gird it

the mind falls

deep into the well

where it sleeps with the soul

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

let freedom ring

let freedom ring

softly in the wheat fields

golden

let freedom ring

loudly on the street corner

amplified by a beggar's crow

let freedom ring

let it spill from the mountaintop

let it swell from the currents

of the deepest ocean

let our freedom ring

so that no man or woman or child

is deafened and smothered

by the chains of bias

the chasm of hatred

the despair of violence unto others

let freedom ring

again and again

amen

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

H2O

in the river outside

the daylight swims

close to the banks

never a dull minute passes

along the stream

the current, fierce under the wave

carries with it my dream

subtle, not tidy

whole, but not too much so

grander than the last

still like oxygen

then, the dam breaks

simple motion multiplied

a force of nature

colliding with my brain

splitting my body like a knife

splits a melon

just a little bit of resistance

but sweet nonetheless

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

renaissance men

renaissance men

forlorn, having lost everything

caged by their modesty

moored, deep in the mud

bubbling up from their past

not to worry

the lust in their hearts

grows weaker now

courage to live right

and rites of passage face them

like bold stanzas across time

meter unbroken, but

the words meander

along gilded pages, frozen in time

and they search, slow, pensive,

wide and far 'round the earth

for one last chance at love,

one minute of rebirth

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

the escape artist

measured, tactile
brushed aside early
was the sound of my heart beating
around the corner
a parade of forgiveness
marched, unrestrained
for the silencer of conscience
even on sunday morning
pews awaken, gleam with
an arc non-convenant
smiles, shameless smiles
and the silent one
becomes the king evermore
and the sea of followers
ebbs
flows
and falls back again
and my heart beats
cradled by my tears
nevermore

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

artifacts in still life

in sterile rooms

broken glass, stained hands

oil stained

painted a dull ache

a billowing wind

not tied to any specific

artifacts

or topography

or Japanese garden

painted only a small inkblot

red, deep red

not more or less

the glass filled the spaces

reflections of a simpler

room of fiction

damsels distressed

and heirloom menageries,

still but impassioned

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

brooklyn never smelled so teen spirit

crawl to the edge
push over the hedges and run
to the other one
nothing sorts out
nothing comes up roses
but i have my notes
carefully crafted
black ink, Waterman
i keep them in my back pocket
storage for hipster nomads
that dart in between the puddles
Brooklyn never smelled so teen spirit
i'm not sure if i can even say that


adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi