Posts Tagged ‘short poems’

1

image: via pinterest

A firefly sailed
out of the black
heart of a green tree,
a spark adrift.

Night made beautiful.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

 

now

Posted: January 25, 2017 in Uncategorized, writings
Tags: , , , , , ,
1

image: via pinterest

a confluence of time-streams:
the past transforms
in this moment
a future is born.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

studiokotokoto

image: studiokotokoto

Sinuous gold-lacquered streams
map an unorchestrated
beauty of dream wounds
hushing celebrating
heartbreaks lifebreaks.

A soul,
broken whole.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

cat-and-fish

image: via pinterest

stillness in movement
silence in the noise
anchored fluidity.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

 

sunlight-window

image: via pinterest


for morning’s light
asks me to trust,
not forget,
my love.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

1

image: via pinterest

i fall, i rise,
a breathing wave;
unshackled, moving –
a trusting child,
perhaps naïve –
to tentative rhythms
night calls, in voices
hollowed and velvet
casting dismembered
rouge on shadow-walls,
the uncertainty of being.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

zennfish 1

Ancient energies shoot to sky
where space begins,

a collision of branches, leaves
voice hollow-boned

clackety clicks, falling to earth
in chaotic harmony.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

altar of light beings

Half a moon, cloaked in silver blue,
around her ripples rainbow halos.

Beside her, the night blinks in stars.
The stars…always the stars:
cold glory, warm spirit.

In the sacred reflection of night’s light,
do you see you?

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

1

image: via pinterest

Outside, the squirrel;
shrill jabs tear
open vast silence –
thin ribbons, smooth
here, jagged there…
a rearranged tapestry –
vivid silence, fading
cacophony.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

1

bird song, london underground via the feather collective

the sweep of my hand lights
the slow fire of a blush

spreading over searing scars,
awakening pain folded in

three neat squares. i don’t
linger but it’s too late, and as

my hand trails unseen paths,
whole and unbroken, you

in your meticulous way
fold the old horrors, and

when i return, i find
three neat squares.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016