Duane’s PoeTree: Reena Prasad writes


Always a great honour to be at the one and only Duane’s PoeTree. Do read the commentary by Duane Vorhees in the comments by clicking on the link. That is the most interesting part of it.
Source: Duane’s PoeTree: Reena Prasad writes

Order cannot laugh

 
They sat in neat lines
heads turned towards the left
sitting as they were put
All
except
one
that wriggled its bottom
twiddled its thumbs
rocked on its bum
and created a disarray
forcing the tidy ones
to rearrange themselves
around the mess
in a bid to hide
the chaos
and the sore thumb
laughed secretly
then out loud
and was still laughing
when they threw it out
and formed a new order.
©Reena Prasad

GloMag November 2016 – Page 194


‘REVISITING’ finds a home in this beautiful November 2016 issue of GloMag.

GloMag is the coming together of writers in their diverse manifestations, thoughts, and expressions – and the visual interpretation of these. – Page 194

Read the complete poem Here ☛☞Source: GloMag November 2016 – Page 194

And the Complete Magazine Here ☛ ☞https://www.joomag.com/magazine/mag/0326287001479836172/p1

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‘Untagged’ in GloMag Sept 2016


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http://joom.ag/FwMQ/p176

UNTAGGED

I do not remember
the things you said to me
about me, for me
I keep no tabs, no written words
no saved files, no cut-copy-paste replicates
nothing to prove their existence
and ruthlessly level any secret hollows
where they might creep in unnoticed
and with passion, couple

Still they survive
curling up into tender silences
when we meet
stretching out the little time between us
into valleys
uncontainable
®Reena Prasad

Tags


This post is for The BeZine’s online,virtual 100,000 Poets for Change event.
The 100TPC themes are peace, sustainability, and social justice.

Tags

Why should it matter
if I am a common cur
uncollared, untagged
tail free to wag?
Does it lessen me in any way
to be unaffiliated to another?
Does it make you see red
and chafe at the chains around your neck,
or arms or ankles?

for even the ones that tinkle
ultimately lock you in
So you try to have me mapped

Spread-eagled I wait while
my eyes, sound, shape, colour, dress
and words are pinned
to a name
a place
a tongue
a profession
a family
a community
an ideology
a crime
a sex
an adjective or several
till you run out of tags
And I am cut into perfect squares and
stowed safely away
into the boxes in your brain

A lone tusker
isn’t conducive to trust
He comes bearing roguish tags
being the freest of us all
©Reena Prasad

Reena Prasad’s Poems – ALEPHI


Three poems in Alephi.com- “a new online Magazine from the Indian Subcontinent for all kinds of literary works in English”
Camouflage‘, ‘Duryodhan‘ and ‘Un-domesticating‘ published on 21st September 2016.


Camouflage My hair grew all white the night I met my grandmother prodding at the base of a rose bush with a long stick Snakes Grandma? I asked Egg shells, dear said she a little

Source: Reena Prasad’s Poems – ALEPHI

Frozen Bits


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Past the awkwardness

of walking with newly protruding contours
of being teased for staring a minute too long
of talking with cracked voices and buck teeth
of fingers pointing out our differences
of answering hormone-dialled phone calls
of overpowering our own mental boobs
of not knowing the art of holding hands
of looking nothing like movie people
of breaking family curfews
of pushing propriety off ledges
of dreaming in tangled limbs
of personalising movies clips while learning history
of hiding the chameleons in our ears and cheeks
of arranging accidental touch fests
of embarrassing spurts of honest pubic hair
of fleeing amoebic tendencies
of feigning surprise at being found in the same room
of saying drenched goodbyes while holding two umbrellas
of meeting again in a world grown too small
of letting go because we were still too raw to hold

we meet again

having shed every kind of skin
having spent all our shored-up credits
having produced the same results
experimenting in separate labs

I love it that we are still
awkward
despite all the learning
just frozen bits of time

© Reena Prasad ,Sept 1 ,2016

It is a Sunday


Screen Shot 2016-08-28 at 10.34.06 AM
Pic Credits : Dr Santosh Bakaya

 

 

It is a Sunday
There is grain on the street
Perhaps a pigeon will come

There are swings in the park
The school is closed
Perhaps a child will come to play

There are bougainvilleas in bloom
There is a breeze that hums
perhaps a butterfly may float here

Here is a street and a park
grain and flowers
swings and holidays
yet something is missing

The man who fed the pigeons
was shot here yesterday

Perhaps love will still come
one day

(C)Reena Prasad
Pic credit : Santosh Bakaya

Please visit
https://intothebardo.wordpress.com/2016/09/23/100tpc-2016/
for reading more participant posts for The BeZine’s online,
virtual 100,000 Poets for Change event.