Posts Tagged ‘hampi’

anu hampi sunset

hampi © Anuradha Prasad 2018

Under my night skin, what lies awake?

If I were to shed it like the snake that
lets go so easily its skin,
the peacocks that drop their feathers,
the butterfly that loses its very self

What would be left?

A blank slate.

Must I start again, then?

Must I gather more nights,
allow stars, cosmic dust, the moon
to seep into my skin, my bones,
my heart, my soul. Once again,
to sing a new song of the same night?

Or should I gather days of scorching sun,
cerulean skies, fluffy clouds dissipating,
to create a new song, so unfamiliar in its
shades, its colors, its shapes, its voice,
so warm, so very day?

But me.

I am the night.

© Anuradha Prasad 2018

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hampi anuradha prasad

sun, rain and bows in hampi © Anuradha Prasad, 2017

My island of monsoon –

sun shines through
sheets of rain
the whistle
of the wind
clear.

rainbows are,
disappear and
are again.

a playground in
sky’s wilderness.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

A scribble from a poetry exercise at Rochelle D’Silva’s performance poetry workshop.

anu hampi 1

three bears (yes, those black smudges) and a peacock (perched on a rock, extreme right)               © Anuradha Prasad, 2017

anu hampi 2

palm oil and jaggery smeared on rocks explain the bear hugs © Anuradha Prasad, 2017

Sculptors at Work-Anu

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017                                                                                                                               

 “I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars…” – Walt Whitman

monkey

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016