A pellet poem
I could not be a song.
Like a snap-shut valise
I should not be a song.
Mood-unfriendly
Don't care to be a song.
Reticent,fairly
Do I dare to be a song.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Because We Are Not Trolls
Because we are not trolls
(Yah!
Wah?
Movup.
*Grunt*)
We make life difficult
For ourselves and others.
(Yah!
Wah?
Movup.
*Grunt*)
We make life difficult
For ourselves and others.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Descriptia
Light filters in through
A filigreed arch and
Rose petals curl,shrink and die and
Reflection smears move
On floor like glass.
There are ants crawling down
Rough hewn bark and
Inkdrops stain the parchment dark and
Wine bubbles rise to the brim.
So?
A filigreed arch and
Rose petals curl,shrink and die and
Reflection smears move
On floor like glass.
There are ants crawling down
Rough hewn bark and
Inkdrops stain the parchment dark and
Wine bubbles rise to the brim.
So?
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Return
When I got off my flight I had to keep my toes clenched.Held down.Because rationally thinking running back home would in fact take more time.But rationally thinking when have I last thought rationally?
At any rate went through with the waiting for luggage and dumping into trolley deal.Once done,broke into a run.Happy even to see the Grandfather,grinned beatifically at him(a man I’m glad to see you smile )All balls but it was just reflective of a general inner feeling.Could keep up a happy prattle the entire length of the journey .
Then .The gate.Brand new but home-ish.Mummy-ish,baba-ish.
Safety be damned,luggage be damned-er I leap out mid drive and soar up on a lift.Then following the hum of conversation into the house I see I’m in.No one else does though.The purohit continues with his pujo and the people sit around munching on proshad and the like.
The lack of acknowledgement was one thing but what followed was one up on that.
Joey!
Eesh!Ki kalo!
Ki mota!
Chaan koroni?
You need a haircut
But the thing about home is through all this I’m expected to discern that they’re glad to have me back.
At any rate went through with the waiting for luggage and dumping into trolley deal.Once done,broke into a run.Happy even to see the Grandfather,grinned beatifically at him(a man I’m glad to see you smile )All balls but it was just reflective of a general inner feeling.Could keep up a happy prattle the entire length of the journey .
Then .The gate.Brand new but home-ish.Mummy-ish,baba-ish.
Safety be damned,luggage be damned-er I leap out mid drive and soar up on a lift.Then following the hum of conversation into the house I see I’m in.No one else does though.The purohit continues with his pujo and the people sit around munching on proshad and the like.
The lack of acknowledgement was one thing but what followed was one up on that.
Joey!
Eesh!Ki kalo!
Ki mota!
Chaan koroni?
You need a haircut
But the thing about home is through all this I’m expected to discern that they’re glad to have me back.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
The Song Mechanism
The first time
It left deep tire marks;
Breaking,splintering
In its way.
And the light that shone through
The now clear places,
Was good.
And the wind when it hit
This new bareness,
Was good.
Then why stop?
Once more and once more
New grooves were etched.
Some running roughshod over the old,
Some compliant .
But now stop.
For the grounds is acquiring
That well known hardened shine.
For it rolls over
Now vastly blunted nerves.
It left deep tire marks;
Breaking,splintering
In its way.
And the light that shone through
The now clear places,
Was good.
And the wind when it hit
This new bareness,
Was good.
Then why stop?
Once more and once more
New grooves were etched.
Some running roughshod over the old,
Some compliant .
But now stop.
For the grounds is acquiring
That well known hardened shine.
For it rolls over
Now vastly blunted nerves.
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