The hawker of pretenses
The hawker of pretenses, he is;
roaming through the city and its streets.
You can find Indian arts to
Chinese comb as per his claim.
(You must have heard the jokes before;
but let me tell you this once more.
He showed me two skulls, last Monday;
when asked, he said, “The big one
was of queen Mamtaz.” “And that one?”
“It belonged to Mamtaz’s childhood.”
Well, I laughed aloud just like you.)
The hawker of pretenses, he is.
I buy an urn of hope from him
which he insists not to open.
I know, what he means, perfectly.
Hope lives midst the prospect of it.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
Remake yourself
Just another time to fix and mend, is all she can think of;
looking at the broken pieces that need not be bought or brought
in the first place. Burly summer heat accosts her from outside.
Shrill cry of a bird crashes against the dusty window panes.
It is time to fix and mend again; she sighs. Hides the album
till the day comes when her son will grow. Then, he may understand.
The stream of callow emptiness flows down the hollow floor,
summer has sent her son to the world of blessed oblivion.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Comments: 36
Very Deep. ~
I know someone like the hawk in the first poem. Well done, Ku! The second one raises an eyebrow and a look of concern sweeps across my face. Your writing exceeds the gather realm because it's so profound. I hope you have or will publish. Thank you for posting to our group.
You said that you have sent me a mail. I could not find it.
It is outside gather where it's hot, my friend.
You tell such sweet stories, Poddar. Thanks. :)
Poddar this one is so good, not like the rest of yours aren't but this first one I really liked.
they go together that's for sure. i like the titles you used. well done :)
Adieu
Sounds like he truly knows how to sell someone on his idea!
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Your poetry always amazes me, Poddar. Awesome...
In your first, the balance of the poem sets the stage for the last line. Then there's the element of deceit in the joke. Well done.
wonderful poem Poddar
hawking his wares with idiocy and irony!
The sweet place of oblivian!
another wonderful write my friend. I am sorry to have missed so many lately. School is keeping me very busy!
I liked that, that was cute and funny the hawk ::)
Thanks for sharing on Getting to 3000 Together
It is often a sad thing when the skull of childhood has to give way but it is necessary. It is necessary for great feats of science, of medicine, and yes, of art. Such as this, your great art that you share like candy. Thanks Ku.
And we either find faith or we find oblivion. Lately, I am a ping pong ball between the two.
EXCELLENT! Your poetic storytelling has reached a new plateau. You are maturing in your wording and presentation...your essence has always been perfection. "Hope does live midst the prospect of it"...Great line! Thanks for my review, am trying new things...If one stands still, one goes backwards..your friend Richard Lynn
I am stunned with your new voice. I have been searching mine....
Great work.
These are both veryy good, and I really liked the remake yourself in particular.
reinvention is the art of deep souls indeed~ =)
Well done Poddar the first one emphasizes how easily we human believe and hang on to faith. The indirect comparison in the second between the bird that crushes against the window pane and the woman trapped willingly inside is great.
There are times we need to believe in the mystery of an object so we do not explore it too deeply.
To die in order to be reborn. It's a very Earthy thing.
Queen Mamtaz required two skulls. The boy in Mother's album gone... onto his own existence. Somewhere mid-life, to find our child again, to breath the sunlight. Maybe a third skull to end the last scene with?
The Surreal Circus
(Ade likes how you think)
Very existential, Kushal...
Featured in the The Triple Name Club
very well done!
Nice poem =]
These are wonderful.
thanks!
Thanks again, you are a true professional!