Posts Tagged ‘writings’

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

 

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image: pinterest

stoic night of blazing venus
silent canvas to

montage of sounds
bracketed by walls.

rough-hewn barks
approaching heightening disappearing

susurrus leaves,
winter’s children now dead

eye flutter, jagged breath
deep. even. slow.

toward oblivion i drift.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

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image: via pinterest

the moon is full
behind tangled tree limbs,

they do little to muffle
her loud beauty: she glows

the color of butter, pierced with
the sharp sheen of metal.

time’s lazy sky meander
softens her gaze, thaws her cool

she sighs in soft puffs
of silver breath, birthing

a surging living
celebration of her divinity.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

six minutes

Posted: February 4, 2017 in Uncategorized, writings
Tags: , ,
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image: via pinterest

Tall men, short men, men with grey hair, men with no hair, men with a headful of hair, men wearing glasses, men with bare eyes, men.

A boy with thick glasses presses the folds of a paper; his hair is touched with grey.

A girl with bangs. Hippie flower child. Tall. Lean. Blissed out.

Mouth set in a slight scowl. Doesn’t smile often. His eyes scan the paper.

Men with bags, men clean shaved, men holding paper, men with cellphones, men with earphones, men.

A woman laughs.

She shakes as she laughs, a red stole carelessly thrown over her shoulder.

Men wearing sports shoes, men with unkept feet, men staring blankly, men on the phone, men forming soundless words, men.

A voice: Tell me your number.

He looks up, eyes dazed and unfocused, a slight squint, glasses of little help.

The train slows down, falling to a stop with a long wheeze. The speckled blue floor is muffled by rushing feet.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

roar

Posted: December 3, 2016 in Uncategorized, writings
Tags: , , , ,
shilo-shive-suleman

image: shilo shiv suleman

Not you furtively skirting long shadows
jump in
Not you crawling, quivering
grow strong-still
Not you shrouded in sameness
strip now
Not you wishing on stars
know earth
Not you who knows
unlearn
Not you smiling falsely
oh, stop!

Yes
you, i seek
you
who roar.

© 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

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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

Pic 1 Zennfish

Smack in the middle of Pottery Town: pots, towering and miniature idols, kilns, and in no particular order to the process, people at work.

Pic 2 Zennfish

A man spread mud on tarpaulin and laid it out in the sun, before proceeding to knead the mud mixed with water.

Pic 3 Zennfish

Finished Ganesha idols in all shapes, colours and designs wrapped in plastic covers lined the streets. They were waiting to be loaded in trucks and distributed across markets where people who celebrate this festival buy them, worship them, and finally immerse them in lakes and tanks.

Pic 4 Zennfish

A dilapidated building was actually the kiln that is used to fire clay.

Pic 5 Zennfish

Down a narrow lane, a man and a woman were at work. Laid out around them was an army of tiny busts of Goddess Gowri, some painted, others waiting their turn.

Pic 6 Zennfish

On the main street, a man sat outside spraying paint on a Ganesha idol. He held each idol on a work stool. Once an idol was uniformly sprayed with pale coral with no trace of the naples cream base, a woman would quickly remove it and replace it with a plain idol.

Pic 7 Zennfish

Next to them, an old lady sat painting Lord Krishna and his companion Radha. Mother Mary holding Infant Jesus stood by their side.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2016

The title is borrowed from a short story in Isabel Allende’s The Stories of Eva Luna.

 

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