Three Poems: A Annapurna Sharma

A Annapurna Sharma
AM I CURSED?

I am a saint
Once, in deep penance
On the iced peaks – The Himalayas.

Donned in white and saffron
Now, I frequent the backyards
Of mortals.

The white gathered in frills
Around the wheel of time –
Only a night to spare.

The saffron, sturdy and stoic
Sniffed the perils of time –
A reminder of destiny.

I bloom with the moon,
My consort for life
The bridesmaids sequin the nocturnal sky.

The zephyr loads its lungs
With my intoxicating fragrance
And ferries it far and wide.

I suffuse an aura of bliss
A downpour from my pot of passion
Wrapping mortals in the rug of desire.

I wait in the dark
For the bowl of carnal pleasures
To fill to the brim and deluge the night.

Not much time to waste
As my mother waits at the foot
With a crypt of soil.

I strive for a noble cause –
To build a conscience
Of the transience of existence.

I am a healer
I treat all fevers and pains of the night
And inflammation of the heart.

With my soothing touch.
Yet I have only a night
Before merging with Thee.

I wander with a sobriquet –
The tree of sorrow –
The Night Jasmine.

In the one night
I survive
The ambush of limbs.

Am I a…
I wonder –
Am I cursed?

BANQUET AT DAWN

 Aha! The party of the wealthy
The aroma, spicy and sugary
I can’t wait to befriend the chili
To gnaw into the green flesh
From the perch atop the neem
I smelt their guffaws and gorges
I yearned to dash down
For a piece

Alas! The orb of the moon
The cause of my blindness
I can grasp a glimpse of the delicacies
With my nostrils alone
Keep an eye open!
Was my mother’s counsel
The night appeared long and sore
And I donned the garb of a lookout

Aha! The banquet at dawn
I can’t wait for the sun to wake up
To swoop and grab
Before my competitor arrived –
The lame man and his blind wife
Digging their talons
Into the food
That is rightly mine

Ca! Ca! Wake up! Wake up!
The big birds with their guttural howls
The sun is up
You overslept they cried
We must stuff in mouthfuls
Of the grimy leftovers
Before the tap of the stick
At the end of the street

Why can’t they go?
And ask the rich
To throw some food or money
Why do they holler over
To the dustbin
Depriving us of our
Fair share
Of the banquet at dawn…

 WHEN I GOT LOST

My friend and I strolled in gaiety
We plucked the evening blooms
Waved at the receding tide
Munched on mundane gossip
Strode the stoic road
Leaped over boulders
Witnessed gunfire
The troops and the travails
Gazed at the pearly sky
Dozed on a lone park bench
Until
The wind picked us up
To be delivered across oceans and seas

Stuffed in a wooden cupboard
Plagued by silverfish
When I gazed at my mirrored self
Jagged pieces of glass pierced me
The blood in my chambers froze
At the sight of stains of gingered tea
Tit bits of savory stuck like glue
My eyes burnt
Unable to bear the brunt of spice and chili
When my dog-ears alerted
At the crescendo from the hall
I peeked as if I were a thief
My friend swayed just as a Holy Man
Dressed in ochre garb
Sermonizing with a rosary in hand
Gossip and page three were her stilettos
Sensationalism and fabrication slid down her arm
As adjectives and adverbs tapped
To the modern tunes
Was it Bieber or Swift?
Or Maroon5 or
One Republic or…
I don’t know, but
She appeared glossy and glitz
Embraced by one and all

My yells of truth
Stuffed in a stinking dustbin
Suffocated, I pitied my tattered self
My silent sighs smothered
As the paper boy
Whisked me in the air
And I land on the faded doormat
Of dear dwellings
Braving another nippy morn…

2 comments :

  1. I enjoyed reading all the three poems. BANQUET AT DAWN - I loved this one the most.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you dear Sangeeta. Glad you liked Banquet...

    ReplyDelete

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