Reflections like a ruby

reflections like a ruby

Ruby, just mined and uncut, I am.

I am ruby, laced with mother’s blood

rising from a wound on her belly;

opened womb bleeding on a table.

An electric sun watching breathlessly

the drama of the first scream. I am pink,

the ruby, small and like a chalice

carrying mother’s blood. A cord is cut.

I wake up amidst metallic dreams,

amidst a plastic canopy where

purring lullaby of dearth of love

makes me set on a benumbed journey

till I suck my mother to live.

Drain her to grow and bleed away

her, bleed away my precious mother.

Ruby, I am; colored by the blood within.

© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)

Silly thoughts

I

Fair headed maidens
are waiting me with
grapes to be nibbled.

Life is a Pavlov's
canine droopin' now
before a stimulant.

II

Tagore, where are you? Oh, this is another century;

your friendship with Yeats and Roma Rola

is another era

but still once in a while

we speak, in whisper,

about the next song the universe

let us borrow in an attempt to write

a poem.

© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)