Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

1

image: via pinterest

Hello, my name? H.
Your good name?

He tilts his head and
awaits my good name.

Me? I am engineer.
Software field, he adds.

What do you do? I write,
I say, a touch smug.

Perplexed, he freezes:
processing, searching.

Just as I fear a shutdown,
a reload!

Eyes screwed, he asks,
um, writing?

Ya, I affirm.
Copy, you know.

He runs his fingers along
the air between us, a piano.

So you are a typer?
No! I am a writer.

But you type, no? Again,
his fingers play the air.

Yes, I reply.
So you are a typer!

That declared, a pleased
smile sits on his lips.

I acquiesce.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

1

image: via pinterest

You blanket me
mold my bones
and flesh
sparing me
the comfort of
clarity. Brown
and brimming:
how i love you.

It’s the taunts, their
memory, stealth strikes
betraying secrets.
Must you be blatant?
So unforgiving?
Why hold my flaws
to the mirror,
to light?

Hold them instead in
the heart, a comforting
secret, till the heart
confuses it for love
for what else does the
heart know but love?

Until one day, deceived
it’ll give away;
splinters will run through
it, raspy breaths, maybe
i will clutch at it,
who cares?
so long as you
glow and radiate
outwardly.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

1

image: via pinterest

I am from a loud place
of many small things
old things, old furies, old
hands saying stop.

I am from feathers angelic
of the flying kind, yet I’m
grounded, only the heart aerial
never carrying me away from
me. A homing pigeon, it returns
from far-flung places, telling me
stories in flutters, and feathers
fall all over me like promises,
maybe consolations.

I am from coffee, diluted
with milk to make me drink
milk, nurturing instead an
insomniac, a night owl who
burns like the stars and holds
in her veins the seduction of
the moon, dark and cold
moon with pause, of disquiet.

I am from pages torn, balled,
and burned. A bonfire that reduced
me to ashes. I rise again, the ashes
they cling, never am I free of
ashes. Burn child burn.

I am from no-nos. Don’t do this.
Don’t do that. Good girls are made
not born. Be a good girl. That’s like
a good girl. A good girl was forced
under my skin. I said my good byes,
she peers out at me now and again.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

1eb8919bcc835ace03a4a29d21faadf0

image: via pinterest

the egg, once warm
and protective,
grew into suffocation.
growing bigger
against the fragile
resistance
the chick knocked
it down, cracked
its prison open.

falling out
wet and ugly
little blind eyes
squeezed shut
hurt by sunlight.
it grew stronger
fed on sun, rain,
worms, berries.
downy feathers
appeared. Pleased
mama chirped goodbye.

the fledgling
stretched its little
wings
opened it, danced
looking up
it saw the miles
of blue it would fly.

one blue day
it watched a
great big eagle
of might and beauty.
the fledgling
struck by the
breathtaking vision
puffed its little
chest and flapped
wings just as the
eagle fell, stone
to ground, going
splat and none
of its regality
remained –
guts spilled
feathers flew
a foot high,
fell fizz flat.

The fledgling
put its wings down
lay in its nest
watched the
sky, now bare.
The fledgling
learned to love
her nest
her fate
until one day
when she said,
oh, sod it,
and flew
the blue sky
her destiny.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

 

0e89efc6484b08f6ffb9672ee1ec6fca

image: via pinterest

crouching
moving
child shadow
within
long shadow
within
old shadow.

flailing
hands
feeling
skyblue windows
milkysap tree
icecold ghosts.

tracing
fingers
indigo
glass pregnant:
living snow
buzzing bees.

inhaling
caverns
mustylined
tube twist
crayon pillar
making lips.

flowing
life
whitelaced
satinsashed
sea streaming
face buried
cotton shoulders
birthday baby.

whistling breath
beheading
flames whoosh
three candles stand
dead.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

(Written in response to one of the prompts at the poetry workshop by Sourav Roy at Atta Galatta)

 

 

1

image: via pinterest

summer condenses
where my knee
creases,
rolls past
calf to tendon
a tear, wet-tailed
agony.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

20160919_180142

Image: Hampi © Anuradha Prasad 2019

Thoughts like sun, blazing
ochre spreading across
a sky, setting fire to all
in its path, strips of clouds
alight in fleeting flames –
mauve, fuchsia, tangerine
dissolving into darkness,
a brass-plated oblivion
against which he pounds
full fisted and forgetting
this too shall pass.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

f7fe547f455ac2e9b72ea64425fc8bd8

image: via pinterest

The heart opens to the
yin and yang breath
of a love song:
the float of a wayward
leaf caught in the grain
of the breeze.

I stand witness to its play.
Reason is stumped. I drop
all restraint, clink-clank,
they fall at my feet.

I pray for mercy.
I join the play.
I love again.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

Love is your breath being.
Feel its pull and push.
A lotus blossoming
of the heart, rose rays.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Let love come alive, murmurs
of your body in full stretch.
Skin taut and silken.
Bones light.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Anoint yourself.
Oil and sandalwood paste.
Let the water flow and trace
your shape, an adoration.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

A wristlet of rose.
A garland of mogra.
A halo of jasmine.
Kanakambra woven in hair.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Chant love’s numerous names
Inanna, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Durga,
Isis, Diana, Maria, Rosa, Eva, you.
Let the sound of devotion resonate.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Sacred is the drink and food
Live every bite, every sip
to its roots, to its birthing,
to its earth soul.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Dance and sway.
Make crystal constellations.
Sing loud, shake maracas,
beat shamanic drums.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Sun kiss.
Moon bathe.
Breeze whirl.
Fire blaze.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Creation creates.
Write your chiaroscuro life.
Paint you in swirling chakras.
Choreograph leaps of faith.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Wake up to love’s call.
A prayer of the self,
to the self. Burn light,
incense, luminosity worship.

Inhale love.
Exhale love.

Goddess, love is you.
Step in, and you’ll step out.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019

Share the love:

IMG_6414-768x768

1

image: via pinterest

arching her back
her face upturned
to the kiss
of the sun
the many-fingered
palm smiled
a leafy smile,
her green deepening
as warmth sped
down her spine.

© Anuradha Prasad 2019