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

OVER THE RAINBOW : Sophie Boswell


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Pamukkale, Turkey                                                                             Pic:Reena Prasad


Very honoured to share a poem by Sophie Boswell, author of Breaking Loose, The Power Of Feng Shui and Journey Of The Mind on my blog. Thank you  Sophie Boswell for your kindness in allowing me to do so and for your generosity.   DO read ‘Over The Rainbow”. In her own words, it is “simple with a little message” but for me it is the infinite wisdom that nothing will wait forever, everything worth dying for lies just here, in full view. Oh for a little courage to stretch those fingers and clasp it! 

OVER THE RAINBOW

You know the childhood story, about the pot of gold
The one to go on searching for, until you’re frail and old
Well, I’m here to tell you that they got the ending wrong
‘Cause it’s not a pot of gold, that will help make you strong

So don’t waste your life, searching long and hard
When the happiness you see can be found in your own back yard
You see, finding the end of the rainbow, can take a long, long time
And when you eventually get there, you’ll find there’s not a dime

YOU are the gemstone of your life
And travelling along that pretty curve, can bring you lots of strife
So the thing I found to aim for, was to make mental jumps
I finally jumped over the rainbow after flattening little bumps

‘Cause gold is just a metal that can melt and flow away
While knowledge and wisdom will fuel you, come what may
So when you read to children, about that pot of gold
Teach them to jump hurdles, to see their dreams unfold.
oOo
©Sophie Boswell
From “My Treasure Trove of Poems”

To connect with and buy her books. CLICK HERE

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


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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.

Other Tongue


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Rat snake at Pazhakulam, Kerala                               Pic: Reena Prasad

Other Tongue


From being hissed at too much, we have become venom

gliding glibly over your bristles, our skin speaking a new language
you cannot decipher without a forked tongue

Feeding you your poison, remaining untouched at the core
Strengthened by the knowledge you lack
Mimicking your insecurities
but also mocking them while being subdued by the weight of your bones

The chains have shifted from soft bodies to minds mired in myths
pampered by obedience and shrunk from disuse
The knots are no longer where they were once put
The fabric has changed and the woman in it has ridden off

Liberty now moves like a breast drummed upon by the rain
and no longer wears heels, fishnet or your name
What you still clutch at is clay of your making
How little you read of what we write on our skins!

©Reena Prasad
Published in the mini anthology on 19th August 2016
An Anthology of Poems Dedicated to World Humanitarian Day

Jasmine-Scented


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Pazhakulam, Kerala                                                              pic :ReenaPrasad

Jasmine-Scented


She waits impatiently for the deep pits can swallow no more

He comes drawn by the lure of quick money. At sunset, the deal is struck.
Three bars of Lux soap, two large bottles of kerosene and coconut oil,
a floor cleaning lotion, jasmine-scented (he insists on it) and 4000 rupees
change hands but no handshakes are expected or given. They vanish into opposite dusks.

She into the house to fasten every window and spray fragrant Oud.
He to the shop to binge on stuff that will quell reason and preserve his sanity.
The night soil stream gallops through sleeping backyards as a well-oiled drunk works diligently,
scooping up and surrendering all his rights, laughing and retching in turn at court orders
spraying kerosene over each load of shit he pulls up till the slabs are cemented back

A moonlight bath with the floor cleaner and a bar of soap
then dinner on a banana leaf left for him outside the locked up house
He opens the last two bottles of toddy dousing the stink of memories
taking home the scent of jasmine, two bars of Lux for his wife and 4000 rupees for his child
which the hospital takes from him once a clean day dawns.
©Reena Prasad

Published in the mini anthology on 19th August 2016
An Anthology of Poems Dedicated to World Humanitarian Day

When Black Holes Collide


 

Honoured to share a poem by Dr. Koshy A.V which made me think of black holes and the waves they generate.

[Untitled]

If there was a planet
With two moons
A system with two suns
Two poets with the same fire
singing different tunes
Lit by the same flair/flare
Of incandescent genius
And its lambent eyes
Those waxing and waning moons
Those living burning dying suns
Those immortal poets twain
And the cosmic poetic galaxies
Of their poems
Swirling in never settling stardust
That would be you and I
That could only be I and you
©Ampat Koshy

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Image :  Artistic rendering of gravitational waves caused by merging black holes :NASA

 

 

Songs of the Earth: An Anthology of World Environment Day Poems | Different Truths


‘Songs of The Earth’, the poetic anthology for World Environment Day at Different Truths today. Another great collaboration effort between TSL-DT ably edited by four eminent poets Dr. Ampat Koshy, Niladri Ranjit Chakraborty Ritamvara Bhattacharya and Gowri Suresh. Thank you Editors! Thanks DT team esp. Arindam Roy Da.
Wonderfully apt artwork by Michele Baron!
My poem is at N0.12.

12. Earth Poem

Poems are unearthed when the soil is moved
Some sun, happy sweat and a lot of grime
A bird chirruping away to itself
The scent of a banana flower, freshly watered greens
A few nodding buds, mud under nails, bare feet
Straggling vines, a sprightly sapling new
The comfort of my back against the stout trunk
of a grandfather tree
Ants on their march, snails housed in pots
Choosy, spoilt butterflies
and a profusion of defiant weeds
There is nothing here
that doesn’t hold me captive
The moss covers every crack
Even the faint breeze heals


I wish to lie here, in a flower bed
or under the thick canopy
dotted with yellow allamandas
hearing a golden oriole flute its song
watching the trees explode with spring
feeling the power, the invincibility of the infinite blue
feeding the first rain drops to my skin


To die in this earth garden
and have only the bees buzz about it
Now that would be poetry
©Reena Prasad

The Significant League (TSL) and Different Truths (DT) together offer an Anthology on World Environment Day (WED), 59 poems, one be each poet, showcasing deep concern against degradation of our env…

Source: Songs of the Earth: An Anthology of World Environment Day Poems | Different Truths

A poem for Rourkela


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Pic from net

At Dusk, I Drink A Town

 

Time is a Bougainvillea sneaking over the roof
of a silent house where a lost child comes to sleep
fed on drops from a leaky steel pipe
that keeps count now that the clocks are still

Over the Koel, an enormous moon waits with its cat-paw
to etch on quiet waters, once the skinny-dipping memories
of scattered children have gone to roost in their adult imprints

A flame flickers in matchbox homes, the divine takes over
while the night makes love
Little hands calligraph growing pains onto lined sheets
Rickshaw pullers thrust down in long, slow strokes
getting themselves to waiting wives and bottles
Milkmen holler at roaming buffaloes to come home
and I respond instinctively though my window is blinded
and the cacophony of growing up has ripped my eardrums

I see a river grow green oars in a night of ripe mulberries,
Japanese dolls nodding and moss erupting over water tanks
The soft brown earth slips through my jamun-hued fingers
Bangled hands and clangs of rolling ingots play a jugalbandi
Enough! My dawn too will wear a sheen of iron
like the gold-streaked blast furnaces
and a black Kalahari summer sucking the Koel’s breast dry

I shake the bough of pink blossoms nearest to me
The town condenses into a large, wet rain drop
and lands on my parched tongue
©Reena Prasad

This poem won the 2nd prize at the World Union Of Poets WUP Poetry Competition 2016.