in a flight
She picks up a book to forget that she is flying.
A cluster of clouds passes the window hole.
It is being sent to pour rain on the town
she has left this morning, there her bicycle
is reclining by the wall of the western side;
she has been hurrying. Bicycle, forgive her!
The cat looks up at the sky and picks the message
it moves under the shade and then in search of warmth
finds a way through the window. The house cat let it go;
makes a point that it is not the rule. The sparrows
sits on the cornice before two now sedate cats.
She cannot watch all these performances, dramas.
Another page is turned. In her head a new poet
is humming a song of rain lashing a green dale.
The made-up face of sensual airhostess
cannot hide her last night; the friend has left a mark.
In this flying island nothing is permanent.
Varied truths are taking surreal shapes at this time.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
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Comments: 42
Congrats one being MOTD for Comment As You Please for 4/29/09
Lot's of twisting about and doubling back
Good writing, fine reading.
Blessings and best wishes - S.
This poem is so unique and thoughtful that I'm going to break my own rule and feature this, even though you're already featured elsewhere.
I'm not really sure what this means, but thanks for the share.
is humming a song of rain lashing a green dale.'
I like this line. Ah, if only the airlines of today were as gentle as your words.
Did you put Jyoti on a plane for Catolina? Wishful thinking, but that is how it reads. LOL
(I look on the cats as a smoke and mirror to divert all other readers.......)
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting