24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I’ve sat in this park for over three hundred years,
yet one of them was loud then soft.
No more children dance on my branches,
no more couples carve my bark.
Though at first I was happy,
I miss them in my park.
My children crowd around me,
while I reconsider,
if they were truly around, why not cull them away
to have a village green again?
Twenty years and counting, since I’ve seen even one,
but I’ll stand a thousand years,
until they come again.
The definite boundaries
define my limitations
and give direction
two at the same time.
Intriguing yet consoling
restless yet in with solace.
It contains the wildness of my thoughts
curls up the thoughts by an inch
yet giving wings to the direction
into the path I so perceive.
do I want to be free as the bird?
I sometimes wonder
with an answer willingly
accepting in unison of my senses
I love myself but.
The directions to my stride
seem to fade
as I let the time slip
into the hands of indiscipline
Awaiting patience
into its trance.
Copyright © Snigdha
My first trip to Kolkata, after a decade,
with my family, meant visiting all the
important tourist spots. One such activity
was the ferry ride on river Hoogly, against
the backdrop of Howrah Bridge. As we waited
for our ferry, enjoying the river’s flow,
and the cool, gentle breeze against our skin,
my son tugged on my arms and drew my attention
towards a gigantic eagle perched on the plank,
a few feet away from where we stood. With fierce,
glittering eyes, the brown wings merging with
the color of floorboard leading to the ferry
point, the eagle was a sight to behold. We took
a few steps back and slowly opened our phones,
watching out for the eagle’s discomfort. We clicked
a few pictures as it stared at us, unblinking.
The ferry honked as it came closer. We kept looking
at the eagle and it continued to watch us, as we stepped
into the ferry. It spread its magnificent wings, shook
its head and soared into the sky. We continued watching
it, till we could see it no more and then enjoyed the ride
(c) Vijaya Gowrisankar
On my clothes hung on a line
Sewn for me in soft silk twine.
Carcass of a bumble bee.
Floating in the wind you see.
Flying like a little kite,
With my underwear so white.
What a crafty tailor, you.
Gulliver need fear you too.
I will have to break your heart,
Crafty spider, oh, so smart!
I sat waiting
And waiting
And deep down I had already known
His true inner self he had really shown
I had chosen the backdrop and it was stunning.
Desperate for romance, I looked at the sparkling Ocean
And recalled the last time I had been there
Had been under better circumstances
I was lying to my friends, “He’s awesome”
and to myself, “We can make this work.”
Our lives were too different.
He was confused and I was working through my own stuff.
Together, it was horrid.
A bad reality show that didn’t deserve to be on the air.
Trying too hard to put him into my life
I want fun and supportive, not more strife.
I can make myself feel badly without anyone’s help.
I sighed. Ordered another drink.
How did it take me this long to see?
Bam! That’s when I realized, I’m better off with a Table for Me.
I love the walk ,along revegetated cliffs looking out
towards an ancient rocky island, I could be a thousand
miles from any where, snakes, koalas, wallabies live in
this corridor, gums and banksias keep the road hidden
but soon I come to wooden paths, stairs resting places
beautiful but not wild they disguise the great white pipeline
with flora but l see it, I taste its pollution returning from sea
it brings jobs and poison to town.
-s.j.duncan-
Twenty years ago, a little boy was born,
growing up so fast, oh where the time has gone?
Childhood just a blur, toys now left behind
little boy’s a man, the memories are kind.
He grew up too fast, I hold fast to him
can’t let him go, time is quickly trimmed.
not much I can do; really have no choice.
Little boy is grown, and he does have a voice
oh his childhood years, how they flew so fast
longing for that time, that wasn’t meant to last.
He will go his way, that time is almost here
little boy of mine, I’ll always hold him dear.
Treasuring that time, when we had been so close.
quite a funny time, he thought kissing was gross
can’t hold back those years, though I wish I could
to proudly let him go, the happy tears are good
I always knew he wouldn’t stay forever
little boy I love, he won’t lose that not ever.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decades, centuries, Millenia
build and build and build just to see it all taken down to be rebuilt. Upgraded.
lived in. loved in. cast aside. Trashed. Spat upon.
oh.
oh, but how beautiful she will be
When she takes herself back.
Towering cast iron skeletons of stark industry decayed.
glimmering glass scattered and shattered cast among giant roots. Greenest leather leaf. Vines reaching, reaching, reaching building, building, building, ruining (how does it feel to be suffocated)
The evolution of things taking growth to an extreme.
that feels, just too good to say no to (the possibility, even)
Massive roots, gorging themselves on liberation. Shattering pavement, scattering concrete, flinging dust into the air as if in some mode of escape (or is it celebration).
Trees. Cities of trees and roots and vines where the captives can roam and roar, and play and run and gnash their teeth (the cages have been pried open by the vines).
Climate instability turning driest desert into a monsoon that brings life. Wiping slates clean in flash floods. Laying it’s upgrades to waste.
And from the solstice comes color. Orchids, lilacs, jasmine, Oh, the jasmine, the jasmine and gardenias, and lilies, wildflowers of such fragrance that would kill a human.
Were there any left.
They don’t deserve it.
We don’t deserve it.
And so she waits.
The blaze was lava alive
Eating and laughing its winding dancing devious way through your life of things
Just things
Cry for your charred china
Lament over your lost Lexus
Search and sift through the ashes for family photos
Forgotten faces in faded frames
Burnt books and melted cases
They mean nothing to me
Give me my view, my window with a view
The sights and sounds of tall trees and rustling leaves
and me with a cup of fresh brewed coffee, dreaming adventure dreams.
Memories are more precious to me
One of the most difficult challenges I faced as a cosmonaut
Was to become completely bilingual
A requirement made necessary by the fact that we’d bought
Several craft components from engineers in America
And so if we needed ever to communicate or signal
A fault or some other such esoterica
Then it would be necessary to use fluent English –
The language used in these crazy lyrics
Far more far out than anything we’ve learned about out here –
Just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year
And it’s true – I wish you were here,
Ticking away the hours that make up a dull day,
Floating around our milky way –
But you know honey, why I did it,
You know – money, it’s a hit…
And you know when I come cold and tired
It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire
For I have become comfortably numb
All the way out here, in this space hub.