nisheedhi's Page

On the dizzy skyscraper’s
Bamboo scaffold a man’s body
Is etched against the hot sky
He is a mere painted figure
On the vast canvas of the sky.
Somebody painted him there.

Trains bring people to river canals
Where death is a mere after-fact
Submerged in flowing green waters.
It is like what your life’s beginning was
When you were sleeping in your mother
Submerged in a sea of emerald aqua
With your eyes closed in green oblivion.

my ears are drums emptied of sounds
please play music for my eyes and thought
my body still vibrates and feet-taps to
heavenly music heard behind my eye-lids
and my skin perks up to beauty-thoughts.

The morning slowly dries wet clothes,
Dripping, they smell of blue detergent
The house there wakes up bleary-eyed
Hesitating shadows emerge from the walls
A varnished gate, the midget of a woman
On the concrete bench, in the garden
Measuring the length of her shadow.

This wordy struggle went on for too long
It is airy words which chased beauty-thoughts
In his folded figure on the window.
A little heaving bird on the electric wires
Played high drama in shrill baritone
Poetry came and went with wind and rain
Premature and dusty on fragrant creepers
Their flowers became stars on moonless nights.