(haibun) power cut
This is the city of power cut. Someone has said. The ghost of darkness still plagues us, the people. Sometimes. Sometimes evening is a wrap of darkness. Power failure? Oh, yes. Such an evening opens our stories. The stories of truths and the stories of lies cross boundaries.
power cut~
a mug of stories
cupped by two hands.
© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar
out of nowhere
Sunlight flickers
driver curses
his jammed wipers.
Aqueous light
quivers on me.
I urge the cab
to stop and drop me.
I come to you,
drenched all over.
When I paid him,
the driver said,
“It’s nowhere!”
Yonder a farm,
a few cedars,
and verdant field,
there is nothing else.
You smile and ask,
“Hope there has been
no problem at all.”
I look at you.
I have reached the end,
the nowhere.
© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar


Comments: 55
read tommy's new poem. he mentioned you =)
The end of nowhere sounds like it's not so bad.
Won't you post this to my group, Anythingwriting ? I would love to have it there.
-R.
The above link is to my latest writing.... believable and unbelievable
a car named belief
Excellent writing.
I must confess I was prepared for depression as I have often identified myself with the Beatle's "Nowhere Man". But your rendering is of light and cheer. At least when stacked against that old tragic song.
I liked this a lot...
Kushal's work here is wonderful isn't it?
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
.
painter’s block
the no where
must always be
here
within the consciousness
of us