Thursday, October 16, 2014

Two Poems by Kushal Poddar

Am I Awake

During winter the shadows
awaken me.  I gasp, seek
the faithful glass holding fluid.
Outside some birds fly away
as if once they leave we'll have
a birdless world, inherit
numerous nests, cold, brittle.
Then I seek you and find you.
Why do I feel disheartened?
Do I want to stay alone
and crave for warmth, toil over
finding what I want and know,
I have right here?  I swing the shawl
around my shoulders and stand
not doing a thing, not
gathering my body and hauling
it back to sleep.

A Plumule On Water

Near the root, stem,
it remains stirred,
disheveled and
cockled from birth,
fringes wobbling
to directions
it will never
endeavor.  Near
the end the tuft
mocks and old sword
or a wick weakened
in wind and yet
holding the shape.
It twirls and falls
on the water.
Almost nothing
changes- the still
life of the things
wider than one life,
sad yolk of dusk
spreading away
into end of hues,
the obsessed eyes
looking these from
somewhere beyond,
a sudden faith
calling me to stroll
on the water
until I reach
the mid-river
and sink in belief.

A native of Kolkata, India, Kushal Poddar (1977-) writes poetry, scripts and prose and is published world wide.  He authored "All Our Fictional Dreams," published in several anthologies in the Continent and in America.  The forthcoming book is "A Place for Your Ghost Animals." Find more at

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