In my world of poetry
I travel with you in joy and enjoy suffering in imagination,
Everywhere, in desert cyclone Kalahari to dark cold Amazon
No concern for the forthcoming change mood of geography .
No interest in dressing up my bleeding wounds cacophony
I am on my mission freedom already pardoned who looted my
half bloom tender yesterday, when chaos broke traffic signal
Now no interest in antique yellow research historical evidence
Crossed threshold of time, fly to moon to catch wings of clouds
I never want to confront arrogant time , buried in black whole
left behind daily that death in operation theatre day and night
Expanding the density of morgue every time , society nuclear
City is suffering from obesity crack clearly visible on the wall
With lucid sense of your presence ,I enjoy life never before
On the top of blue mountain dry my cotton dance to old pine
Blocked my tears , sing to air, none to stop my rhythm love tune
Absence conflicting signals abusive analytics, no synthetic time
You have unwrapped me ,nestling hope in my poetry kingdom
Surely pain succumbed to pleasing pressure crystal air oxygen
I enjoy green freedom , late night wine with cascading moon
In a new world binomial , without any coloured explanation
poetryrepairs #234 17,02:016
Read my Unspoken Words
Often I wonder what would likely happen
All those spoken words of us recorded never.
Quietly dialogue captured in indulgent eyes
Trust reflected in our agreed innocent smiles
What would happen to those faded foot prints
unknowingly left by us over the green soft grass
endless travel in exile, exposing all hidden inner
who will complete unfinished canvas ,water colour
what would happen to our incomplete notes
Secretly put in a cascade in your back waters
All the sweet words engraved by emotion
invented to break the hidden codes forsalvation
I do not know If still you hold those manuscript
Which crafted you in, without any copy right
Story of long drawn battle fought in the cyclone
To install a memorial of love over scary ocean
But I am sure you would never come to know ,
When Pink eloped with intimate evening snow
Invisible would replace silky hopes by white cotton
Since cyclone damaged means of communication
You may or not salvage a non descript foot note
next day in a corner of the last page of nation
Don’t try to discover a new star mid night clouds
Open blank pages album read my unspoken words
poetryrepairs #234 17,02:016
DAVID P KOZINSKI
Love Lingers On The Chaise
It has winked and slipped past me in humming
school hallways, on waxed floors, down stairways.
It has trysted me in empty corners
of the same buildings and twisted its own
summer rules, lips pressing like puckered
irons through her skirt, my pants, in the clinch.
August mornings skidded along,
dusty across the lawns, drifted through
my window with the clacking of typewriters
and plangencies from the arched piano
teacher’s house. It swirled around my ankles,
up to my waist and over my shoulders.
Even the light of February hurts
my eyes. She knows my anniversaries,
and brings her slow hand, cool as ivory,
breath redolent of gloss and cigarettes
across my eyelids. Then her murmured words
slide under the comforter like kittens.
Now I am old enough, I could begin
to give away my books while love lingers
on the chaise counting titles with painted nails.
Those I must dust most I will hand down first
and one or a few at a time will pass
into other hands, dwell on others’ shelves.
From TRIPPING OVER MEMORIAL DAY (Kelsay Press. 2017)
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HIRA SADHAK's first poem was published at age 7. then continued to write in various branches – Poetry, Short Stories and Novels. Widely published in Indian magazines and in international publications in Bengali, English and Hindi. Published works include more than 200 poems, 40 short stories and 20 Novels, and many nonfiction books on topical issues in India.