Introspection

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SivaRamanathan
Posts: 1169
Joined: 14 May 2011, 20:30

Introspection

#1 Post by SivaRamanathan » 23 Jul 2013, 19:25

Introspection

Lounging in a racing Landsor
I see the trees dark with the night
in a distance a bracket of serial lights.
Coming closer it is the outline
of a long and hooked nose; soon
the lights are magnified on the mountain
forming the alphabet ‘v” in running hand
looking like a bright and glowing necklace.
I say, “how breathtakingly beautiful.” He
says, “how sad, there is no helicopter around
to douche these fumes. What you see
is a forest fire how the trees fall limp
leaving carcasses of charcoal.”
Some avaricious trader would have set
the first spark, these are not natural calamities,
the driver says , “rascal!’ Maya says,
just think three hundred year old trees falling
limp with ash, like undone inner skirts and it will
take another three hundred years to make trees like that.



Prospect

Lounging in a racing Landsor
I see the trees dark with the night
and in a distance a bracket of serial lights.
Coming closer it is the outline
of a long and hooked nose; soon
the lights are magnified on the mountain
forming the alphabet v in a running hand
looking like a bright and glowing necklace.
I say, ’how breathtakingly beautiful.’ He
says, ’how sad, there is no helicopter around
to douche these fumes. What you see
is a forest fire how the trees fall limp
leaving carcasses of charcoal.
Some avaricious trader would have set
the first spark, these are not natural calamities,
the driver says ,’rascal’ Maya says,
just think three hundred year old trees falling
limp with ash, like undone inner skirts and it will
take another three hundred years to make trees like that.

Introspect

I think , ‘we writers pain easily,’
we who feel the pain are writers
only the intensity varies
our writing is all about creativity
we make it universal
those who don’t sit with their personal
problems and don’t reach out.

Retrospect

In retrospect my idea of beauty
and my husband’s quick catch of the sadness
of things makes me think, my poetry is a kind
of wallowing in artificiality.

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