Poetry / February 2008 (Issue 2)


by Ashok Niyogi

this moon that lit up
a whole hill top
and went to sleep

this walking stick
is like lipstick
like young poplar
in a woman's purse
it bends my back
give me an anorak
for iced lemon tea
let my teeth
be what they were

before I sent
that epochal fax

now I am lax
I even forget
to water my rose
my false teeth
are in retreat

like monsoon clouds
like Moscow shrouds
like so many whys
like hazel eyes

now you will turn
the other way
and douse this fire
that had to burn


here the river eddies
swells and flows back
hits black obstinate mountain
becomes a sea
momentarily dies
and is born again
as it has been for centuries

raindrops wet her water lilies
on a suspension bridge she stands
the waters are furious
a bunch of tube roses wilts
in her calloused hands

here dragonflies rule the land
such as it is
defined by razor hills
that unfurl back
into a womb
guarded by icicles
that will shard
retarded snowlines
by the arrogance of time

it took a while
to understand my profile
hour glass sand
needs inversion
like the band
that will always sing
Hotel California
so marvelously

come evening
temple bells
will renew me
at the confluence

let the poetry commence

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ISSN 1999-5032
All poems, stories and other contributions copyright to their respective authors unless otherwise noted.