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| Shyamasri Maji |
Wrinkles
Lying prone on her little breastsThe senile sun heaves a sigh
Her skin hums an evening raga
Dusk and dawn have a knot to tie
Shreds of love on a lotus leaf
Stars fathom the midnight blue
He counts the lines on her face
Moonlight peeps into their loo
My Mottled Skin
Tonight, the sea ravesBlack and white waves
Salt and pepper in the air
My mottled skin
Wrapped up in sin
Sips moonlight on a chair.
Shame has lost her senses
Sprinkle water on her face
She may die of salt and pepper
I’ll sip moonlight on my chair
Backless Blouse
The eagle flies high, across the tailored skyDipped in chocolate brown
Brocade clouds adrift, above her molten midriff
The silken sun kneels down
Narrow edges glide, the voyeurs chide
Flaky skin flaunts fashion!
Stay in your room, mock epic of a broom
Fasten your shrewish passion.
Framed in a fragile knot, an acre of patchy plot
The moon melts on the river cold
She catches a flying fish, unbuttons a dewy wish
Her blouse—backless and bold
The Witch
A dolphin dives into my hairy cheekAlong the jaw line of our ancient creek
Across the hills and the purple fawn
I will ride a horse in the starlit dawn
My hooded cloak upon your eyes
Cloistered walls burrowed by mice
Cats do couch in the cauldron of love
Broomstick flies on the wings of dove
The poems are evocative and help restore to us our humanity, which is daily eroded by work, drudgery, gadgetry and what not. Congratulations to Shyamasri who deals with these sensuous moods with finesse...
ReplyDeleteRichard O'Connor
Many thanks for your thoughtful observation. Regards.
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