poet II
(To John F W)
True picture whispers,
A maestro's pen scurries on,
Drops of ink on sand.
*
A telephone rings,
Instrument rings like a bird.
It is poet’s home.
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
Memoir- I
(To Robert)
Pristine memories of soft touches
are the out-of-focus sun, shining;
and domestic sparrows, searching crumbs.
The extinct weasels of past, pops up
little heads, in their frightened moves.
The heads of days spent; dusks, nights wasted
are like them, in terms of suddenness,
surprise appearances, though sad,
you can call ugly. They hurt.
The tricky lanes with broken patches
bend at the evanescing jungle.
He is setting feet there, in search
of endangered and disappearing past.
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Comments: 34
The one for John Walter is splendid, too. I'll bet the phone ringing would distract him from writing a poem, but he'd come right back and finish or I should say edit it. He's a true genius and master wordsmith. You are both two peas in a pod. Thank you for posting to our group. Hugs, Jenni
Again, thank you for thinking of me and also for the birthday greetings.
Superb. And yes, the image of the crab scurrying along is most apt.
What a sublime gift you have.
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
Blessings and best wishes - S.
Thank you for posting to The Surreal Circus
And the imagery of drops of ink in sand is embracing and enthralling~
And I am so humbled that you would take the time to apply your skill to describe this wannabee poet. You, my friend, define FRIENDSHIP!
:+)
..
U wishing you laughter
He needs all the encouragement he can get.
<font size="4">MySpace Comments</font>for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Beautiful as Usual"!!! Very Nice Tributes"!