The Work of Art
It is just another day
To be proud
Happy with who I am
With high self
Esteem
And the old broom and
Mop at hand.
At the Doctor
Trust, to care about
Who I am
As if to let me have
My say
Pad and pen the end
Or give me a couple
Words as a pathway.
Word…
Word is Brahman
It emerges from
Hiranyagarbh
And wanders in the ether
Man’s heart vibrates
He hears its rapturous melody
And sways in ecstasy
And is lost in the sacred silence.
The other day…
The predator pounces upon the word
And preserves the kill
A dictionary is compiled
It hardly objects
But, is it at ease?
Lexicons continue multiplying
And then, words…words…words…
Words sans soul
Across...
Before
I spoke their language as a philosopher.
I assumed harsh consonants accidents.
I stood in long lines at their communions.
They laid hands on. I listened bent forward.
I sat under their lectures, taking notes.
The seemed clean, free of the stain of questions.
They dressed so nicely, invited me out --
Beerhall nights where we...
Language
this noise binds us in peculiar ways
as if it knows the frequency
at which we resonate
I can predict the weather
by the lilt in your voice and you
can pinpoint my location
by the clamor on the streets.
evening is when the suburb
breaks down into episodes,
but all I can think of is the time...
Home
When the tree shed all
leaves under a blue
naked sky,
someone whispered: It’s spring.
I sat a crow on the barren tree
that melted down before
the black bird escaped
in to oblivion.
Pebbles strewn around
the pathway laughed
& walked straight
into my heart
When I found the gate
locked after a long journey,
the road announced:
You’re home.
Skeleton
Standing alone in front,
of...
Midsummer
i
I was inside a labyrinth: A flood in front of me. The endless surge and fall of water. The deep ocean surface wavered before turned in white waves. When the waves receded, they left a little shimmer in my little eyes. At a distance, something washed ashore. A blue...
Yarn
I.
Spread out like a tangential curve,
perched on window balconies,
I would stare at each abraded line of the sun
The sky was my favorite thing, how if I lay
horizontally, departed from the forces of
gravity and the will of life, everything was united
A quiet murmur would rush across the diaphragm,
knots and levers humming slowly...
Shikhandin
Poetry has been with humans since the beginning of time. And will remain with humanity until the last human breath is stilled. Throughout the millennia of poetry’s existence, it has always reflected upon and mirrored the world in which it was birthed.
Poetry, like all the other arts, reveals society’s...
Terry Engel
I stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, just a few feet from the engraved words that marked the spot where Martin Luther King Jr. stood to give his “I Have a Dream” speech. At the time of the speech, August 28, 1963, I was three and...
Maria Hiers
“A lone wolf is a wolf that is searching, and what it seeks is another wolf. Everything in a wolf’s nature tells it to belong to something greater than itself: a pack.”
She came to me, colored in. Leslie’s first words to me: “Can you stay for a few...
John Michael Flynn
We can’t all display the courage, talent and nerve of a Rainer Maria Fassbinder, but we can try, at least, to respect it. A bomb had leveled the cathedral, leaving a steeple of stones gone black with soot, a bottle and can here and there lodged in...
Pia Donovan
I sit on the floor in front of the old, low, brown bookcase in the dining room. People walk back and forth behind me in a silent rush, going nowhere in the small empty house. Now everyone that lived there is gone leaving two tiny empty bedrooms, his...