Light of Matter, 1995
Charcoal, 12×16 in
She is muse, her body luz…
In a flash does she reduce
Materiality to lambent ash,
So the artist catches the spirit.
– Bolbul
Edge of Air. 2016
Charcoal. 20×30 in
A nude model sets on edge studio air, similar to her rough chopped hair. Vulnerable inside, outwardly she combativeness dares.
Burblings, 2025
Charcoal, Pastel. 19×26 in
Tumbling past her ears,
Little secrets bared leaves all,
Carried aslant in a windy waterfall.
She hugged them tight under the shawl.
- Bolbul
Dusk’s Flame, 2012
Charcoal, 14×20 in
A candle and its flame,
At dusk she became.
– Bolbul
Baited, 2024
Pastel, 18×30 in
For her he laid a bait
By picking subjects to paint…
People, scenery and styles,
All for one woman adjusted.
It was taken and grandly paid.
– Bolbul
Obverse Verse, 2024
Pastel, 18×30 in
As if watching the sun’s watery descent,
She stood in a pose ancient…
With eyes skimming over rippled paint
Toward the cosmic refulgence.
– Bolbul
Temple of Words, 2010
Charcoal, 10×12 in
Coarse tulips paint air,
Ten short feet behind her,
In the manner of Van Gogh’s heirs…
A lamp ceiling-slung,
Casts light undisturbed,
As if from heaven’s loftiest rung…
A girl’s heart lit
Like a candle wick,
Feels… the night offers its expanse
For a story’s romance!
– Bolbul
Terraced Tree, 2000
Oil, 12×18 in
A tree is a black and white film…
A play of light and shadows
Breathing on your skin.
If Indian rosewood or sheesham,
It offers perches for minds avian –
Big, small, feathered, human.
– Bolbul
Rooter, 2000
Charcoal, 8×12 in
A tree I see,
Rather as a man of art
Whose paper foliage sings…
But water it one must,
For years in secret…
Talk to it from ground to terrace,
For it to stretch its charcoal wings.
– Bolbul
Caramel Throat, 2021
Charcoal, 9×14 in
From the ruins of a heart fate spurned,
A piece outward chucked…
In the throat lodges self.
Now gathering say all comers…
Only through grace excess,
Such sweetness a voice may possess.
– Bolbul
Empyreal, 2018
Charcoal, 8×13 in
Once a supra-constitutional emperor
Ruled India, her upper and nether.
Such was the arc of his blade,
That cannons hurling balls hell-made
At his kingdom, wilted limp as grass
Caribbean, Australian or English raised.
– Bolbul
Florals
Les Boules de Neige, 2023
Pastel, 18×28 in
Himalayan snows aglow,
Turned to rose,
Grant a mind meditative repose.
Turiya (Consciously), 2024
Charcoal, 11×14 in
I sleep too like you…
So darkness may do
Its quilted, flowery magic upon my head…
Perceptible from corners aloof.
– Bolbul
Lightcrop, 2024
Charcoal, 11×14 in
When flowers get together,
They till the surrounding air…
Shaping darkness into hoes
For light beads to sow…
And reap an orchestral glow.
– Bolbul
Verbal Bouquet, 2024
Charcoal, 11×14 in
How the vase spoke to the lily
I merely copied…
Since then the glimmering arcs
Of her smile upon my darks,
Respire lightly.
– Bolbul
Free Hippily, 1993
Oil, 20×30 in
Fluttering slipstream as days flowed,
Muslin light, balletic tip to toe,
Her breezy limbs caught a poet’s nose…
Picking a canvas he wrote –
I am a sucker for hips of rose.
– Bolbul
Heliophilous, 2021
Oil, 24×30 in
Prolific in gardens of the Sun
Are roses curling… all golden.
To get them down as I did,
Facing wall close eyes
And let imagination… yearn!
– Bolbul
Aftertaste, 1993
Oil, 24×30 in
The rose has left
For eyes, the aftertaste
Of chocolate.
– Bolbul
Rain Poles
Once during a monsoon deluge,
While visiting friends at bamboo’s
Native home… to the world as Bangalore known,
I noticed this magisterially fused
Scene… revelatory, Vedic-ally pristine,
Painted into internodes…
Broad, resembling a culm watery smooth.
Main Invite, 2001
Gouache, 9×12 in
Red African earth hosts afternoon
In its au naturel living room.
Light bursts dance with dust
To crackling music, with panting chests…
But all await Rain, the chief guest.
- Bolbul
Animals
Streak of Horse, 1996
Oil, 16×24 in
Came nuzzling the Arabian horse
Then along the fence rocketed past…
Leaving a trail of our shining bond.
Kum Kumm, 2015
Oil, 20×30 in
As clouds roll drums…
Bearing ‘rasa’ or coursing literary sentiments,
Two golden birds ride heavens…
Reminding of Kalidas or Jim Morrison.
– Bolbul
Sated, 2017
Oil. 28×28 in
All-seeing eyes and big head-assisted,
The dragonfly had hunted
In the air and bushes, regally.
Now as the sun fled,
It gathered its membranous spread…
A kitty stood in its only blind spot,
Ragged with hunger.
Will she lunge or a friendly paw extend?
– Bolbul
Is Tarah 