Children collecting shells on the beach
Ideas,images and cultural expressions |
nisheedhi's posterous |
In the river there was utter confusion
The boulders were not all that sure
And the hot brown sand felt disoriented
They saw the Sunday bazaar on the banks.
The images were there, those shadows
That played in the walls of the dug holes
Filled with darkness where sand was
That removes fear of darkness elsewhere.
In the Sunderbans* the shadows were long
And diaphanous, reaching up to the gray skies
Outside the huts the trees were crooked
And leafless, bearing the burden of our sins
Against the child’s shrieks at the phantom’s coming.
In the city, the nights are dreamed once again,
In broad daylight, among several theses;
All the while, in the backwoods, a yellowed day
Was witness to cultural history being re-enacted.
Meanwhile, there was fever rising in our blood
Strangers at midnight attacked us for our secrets
A little girl laughed at the dreams in our head,
Outside the room, from the fever of her own blood.
The night advanced slowly casting
Its ominous shadows on the faces.
Outside her house the neem tree shook
By the gentle tug of a dreamlike wind
Rustling through its autumn leaves.
The sky rumbled vaguely in the distance;
Silver lined clouds dissipated in the hills;
The wind fizzled down in the stillness.
we scoop her in our bags ;
all the while we chant strange words
that mean nothing to us or to her.
our words are ashes ,our love ashes
a bag of of yellowed bones .
On the wall the elephant danced with his tail high,
The kings of yesteryears rode on camels that laughed
On the opposite wall yesterday’s man and woman
Joined the life’s chorus from across death’s borders.
My interests are poetry writing and photography
