Transience
At the vaulting dome waves refused to travel
Unless on a few pieces of silver and a name.
The flying metallic bird will take two full hours
These angels in turquoise will feed our appetites.
There is fear lurking in our minds behind bravado.
We try to shut out noises of after-death and failure
We blame ourselves for all...
Plus
Transience At the vaulting dome waves refused to travel Unless on a few pieces of silver and a name. The flying metallic bird will take two full hours These angels in turquoise will feed our appetites. There is fear lurking in our minds behind bravado. We try to shut out noises of after-death and failure We blame ourselves for all our stupid failures As though they really mattered to us and the dead. We then read patterns in the grayed whys of decay. As though the whole thing is a science of death And we have nearly mastered the art of dying, Of succumbing to the need to maintain transience. We wear the polyester film of transience about us We read poetry in the trivial tragedies of their tatters.
Moins
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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Helpless
On the dizzy skyscraper?s
Bamboo scaffold a man?s body
Is etched against the hot sky
He is a mere painted figure
On the vast canvas of the sky
He stands helpless because
Somebody painted him there.
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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Worship at the temple
There was the power of fragrance
Of lighted camphor and tiny flowers
My people?s concentrated history
Flowed through these stone archways
Stone people who lived on forever
These are my own dearest kinsmen
My flesh and bones are made
Of the same powdered red rock
We worship the same granite god.
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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The sea
you were talking about her walking
barefoot, into the sea, at night
with orange fires between eyes
as far as we know she was last seen
behind the customs warehouse,
chanting skeptical mantras with her
lips trembling with fearful doubts
the shadows there gobbled her up
the sea only gobbles up shadows.
as had happened with that...
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The sea you were talking about her walking barefoot, into the sea, at night with orange fires between eyes as far as we know she was last seen behind the customs warehouse, chanting skeptical mantras with her lips trembling with fearful doubts the shadows there gobbled her up the sea only gobbles up shadows. as had happened with that man who returned bloated at high tide you see we have never worshiped these small Goddesses who become angry there a bald man walked into the sea the sea of emptiness beyond the window wanting to get back to the mother fast inside, a greedy woman , a son in fog at the end of the street they all disappear where there is a blind turn, a dead-end.
Moins
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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Lectures: 5
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The Ambhir lake
From the road the lake shimmers
Blue and crystalline, with dark
Figures of cormorants on the rocks
Protruding in the middle of the lake.
They hang above the edge of the rock
Flapping their restless wings.
Trees brood on the edge of the lake;
Their shadows gyrate on the ripples.
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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The blue mountains
In the blue mountains
Passions do not rise high
The mountains gently shake
Shimmering silver oaks off
The wind in their hair.
They squat pretty in the valleys
Wearing their best velvets
The air here is tea-fragrant
As magical woman-fingers
Pluck two leaves and a bud
And hurl them into baby-baskets.
(At the...
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The blue mountains In the blue mountains Passions do not rise high The mountains gently shake Shimmering silver oaks off The wind in their hair. They squat pretty in the valleys Wearing their best velvets The air here is tea-fragrant As magical woman-fingers Pluck two leaves and a bud And hurl them into baby-baskets. (At the tea-gardens in the Nilgiris in Ooty in South India)
Moins
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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Mornings
This season the birds twitter constantly
Their colors refuse to climb the sky
Amid scattered sounds and sun-rays.
These mornings are many-hued skies
Rising from treetops of bird-songs.
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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Lectures: 4
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The woman in morning walk
The sun s rays touched her and went up
Penetrating the trees and then the sky
I saw that happening ,often,behind her
A gentle yellow light touching her warmly
This morning the sun has come down quickly
From behind the wall, through the boulders,
Bouncing off the golden border of her sari
Flooding my inner...
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The woman in morning walk The sun s rays touched her and went up Penetrating the trees and then the sky I saw that happening ,often,behind her A gentle yellow light touching her warmly This morning the sun has come down quickly From behind the wall, through the boulders, Bouncing off the golden border of her sari Flooding my inner glass eye with light.
Moins
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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Lectures: 3
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On the Tirumala hills
Here bright sampangi petals
Breathe fragrant life into the sky
Swaying red sandalwood trees
Tilt precipitously towards
The orange fringe of the western sky.
The holes of our eyes are filled
With salty tears like yesterday s
Abandoned stone quarries
Fresh with pellucid rainwater.
Par nisheedhi
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Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
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Lectures: 2
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The dreams persist
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 dreamt once again,
In broad daylight, among several theses;
All...
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The dreams persist 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 dreamt 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. *( literally ,beautiful forests, the estuarine forests of Bengal, the home of the royal Bengal tiger)
Moins
Par nisheedhi
Texte
Publiée le 23 Jan. 2009
Pages: 1
Lectures: 7
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