Songs of the Dead – Countercurrents


Abandoned, forgotten passwords, we will be buried and burnt. Or replaced. Our laughter stripped of its sound bytes will freeze in frames. Our conversations will loiter in the marketplaces of lost cities Their wise songs have gone, dashed against cliffs. Wiping off dewdrops from grass lips, the day stretches. Its grayness splits. A bird sings from a branch. Both are[Read More…]

Source: Songs of the Dead – Countercurrents

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GloMag April18 – Remnants


Remnants in GloMag April 2018

GloMag is the coming together of writers in their diverse manifestations, thoughts, and expressions, and the visual interpretation of these. Sometimes the original thought of the writer gets completely lost in the interpretations. Visual aids help us to decipher the writer’s intentions, and at the same time, enhance the reading experience – page 232

Source: GloMag GloMagApril18 – Page 232

GloMag March18


Very happy to be a part of GloMag March 2018. Thank you Glory Sasikala for yet another brilliant issue! Much gratitude to dearest Aruna Edula for the image.
Of Gates, Goats and Roses is on pages 77-78

 

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GloMag is the coming together of writers in their diverse manifestations, thoughts, and expressions, and the visual interpretation of these. – page 76

Source: GloMag GloMagMarch18 – Page 76

Aestivation


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AESTIVATION

The road is an arid breath
wheezing through barren boughs

I unpacked you on the green bed
My hair flying wild
Bees humming about silken valleys

We left together to explore the trail
of a dust-swept summer
Drunk bees still buzzed in hordes
till a flycatcher caught up with us

Your summer, a mirage
A shimmering wall of sorrow
Dry-eyed, I listened to its howl
They lamented in Nizwa and Sohar
yet you held your sorrow in
waiting for Khareef

The Hajar mountains twisted to get
a glimpse of tourists
fooled by bursts of paper blooms

Parched, we returned
A white eye of a flycatcher followed us
The wall wept then at my infecundity

But in my rucksac, carefully preserved roots lived
To soak in tap water at leisure
and bring forth a trail of sprouting greens

I smelt then
the base notes of a buried south-westerly monsoon
feeling buds of earthy love
from this land of hidden green
burst open beneath dry skin
© Reena Prasad
GloMag May 2016