Author: nisheedhi

Now a surgeon would send up
A tube all the way to the heart.

Now will the bones tumble out
As in dad’s vintage cupboards?

Among the bones, will there be
My secret love for other bones?

The dog’s bark is pillar of the night
West away and night may crumble

Like a scaffold holding up a creeper.
A petite mosquito buzzes near ears

Singing its poetry of the unreal kind
A sliver from its smoke of a burning.

It will be a big scene
after all,
We claim, stretching
arms,
Expanding the world
in them.

We live proxy lives
and times,
A cat’s nine in love
and death.
We live our life large
in scope .

Cat clouds are nimbus
or cirrus
Passing like clouds of
moments.

Mere vapour it changes
shapes.
One moment passes to
another.

Some days you do
nothing by night.
When poems are all
things of death
A girl’s cry is heard
in a floor below
Carving out existence
from night.

Cuckoo shouts from tree to tree
Its call is in silence after silence,

To the imaginary rain in the hills.
A sun rises quietly against birds.

Birds shout to the reddening sky.
Temple shouts a soft song to sky.

We wonder why in such silence,
They have to shout to be heard.

Let sea douse all these fires.
Boats are burning like suns.

If the ring nets may be used
To catch all those small fries

Is a burning question in sea,
Fishermen tight till the gills.

In new year, the sea will be
Long and life short as usual.

I want you to say something please
Say anything.
Tell a story, may be.

Say it for God’s sake. Tell me a story.
Your this silence is my
utter darkness.

I wish more years to your bark,
many rings
Like golden girdles around your
stomach.

Actually my rings went long ago,
now
Only a hard crust, a home to the
wood-pecker.

Statue lost ‘I” to night of confusion.
There are no dead sounds in night.

Darkness marks out the disc moon
Like a Frisbee lost in the vague sky.

The “I”s seem lost in this confusion,
Having forgot their souls on bones.