Poetry: Sravan Xavier

Sravan Xavier

Chirpy Berceuse

Stand-still,

that’s what becomes of time

listening on and on to the tone

of a teeny-tiny passerine

from Passeriformes of Aves of Chordata of Animalia

perching on the rooftop

beautifying the spooky night

gently beating my eardrums.

It’s a pleasant lullaby, alright.

What notes are in play? That I don’t know.

Maybe I should dig in acoustics.

Oh well! Why even bother analyzing the melodious ditty?

Why think of the patterns of vibration?

Longitudinal wave bundle? Yes, that’s what the chirp sound is.

Mechanical wave bundle? Duh! 

Not the point here.

And might as well forget the uneven frequency

and also, the pitch while we’re at it.

My love for that chirping

up-chirp or down-chirp

is all that counts in here,

as does my desire

to whistle away the horrid aftermath shock

of traveling through the ginormous highway

full of deafening pack of howler automobiles (Oh, the decibels!)!

All for a carefree, noise-free slumber.

Nevertheless, I’d want to admit

this is no recording studio,

no rubber blockers, nothing

just all dissonated air

and yet the chirping flows uninterrupted

resonating through the dissonance

vibrating my very heart

drawing me closer and closer

to a good-night sleep.

***

Creasy Beauty

Blank, colored or printed, nothing to do with me

So long as it can be

Folded, creased, wrinkled

And if untorn, reshaped

Or cut and made into entirely new

The paper birthing origami.

The sound of rustle I dig

As my fingers come into contact

With the little paper thingy

And the neurons in my brain

Flickering, streaming in ideas manifold.

Bird, dog, table, box

Or one of those crafty decorations for parties

Or a fan to sweep the sweat off in the heatwave

Or a boat to put in a rain puddle

Or a beautiful Pegasus to add a touch to display rack

Possibilities hitherto out-worldly otherwise

Just fold, run your imagination haywire

And discover the sculptor within.

And who says their shreds should 

Have one-way-ticket to the trash chute?

Make them into three-dimensional pieces

Connect them and create 

Whatever strikes fancy.

That beats connect-the-dots game for sure!

***

Like Camping in a City

Can hear the chirping of birds? Yes.

Can see the greenery? Yes, I guess.

Can grab a bite? Quite easily, but it costs.

How about the breeze?

Well, depending on the conditions

It can be a soothing breeze

Or a soot-ing suffocation domain

That’s the big city.

The sun’s got absolute supremacy in here

Even with roofs deflecting its glare

For the emerald shaded air purifiers continue

To get cleared

To disappear

Leaving all the burden of providing us fresh breath

To the tiny budding saplings.

Sounds? Definitely.

Don’t expect them to be of light decibels

As in wealds

Especially at busy crossroads

Those hordes of busy bees with deafening “Beep!”

Why even bother going that far?

We’ve always got our screaming neighbours.

Threat of animals. Oh yes!

Savages lurking in the dark alleys

Waiting to mug and even to kill

To make their lives sunny

By dusking those of their preys.

And let’s not even talk about campfires

Because fire-fighters don’t really enjoy

The work of arsonists, the Hellfire

And then they’re too busy rescuing

So how can they keep staring at the fire like fellow campers?

Well, that’s camping in city for you.

***

She isn’t Famous just in Words

She’s at it again this year

Well, it’s not like she’s ever stopped herself

From approaching people one after another

Whether from her department or not

And introducing herself, her friends, her hostel room number 

To spread her fame throughout.

Such a lively little pumpkin

But with bundle of energy

That comes with a diversified appetite

And a brave and loud front

As she puts on dazzling presentations in spontaneity

Or rocks in debates and discussions

Or puts her subordinates in “controllo perfetto”

Or cheers her pals during exams

With her “burn the paper” cliche

Centering herself all the attention.

Of course, it’s not like she hasn’t ever been in the dark lump

Even she’s had her setbacks and embarrassments

It’s normal, isn’t it?

Not that they’ve ever barriered or chained her psyche 

Try shutting her up, and she’ll let you have it

Either a loud admonishing or a heavy slam

No wonder no man can have a way around her.

Roulette, pubs, liquor, underworld, mafia

The words that never ever leave her side

Saying these’ll serve as her steps to fame

If the regular honest work doesn’t pay.

Now that’s one heck of a friend

Might as well cast her in “Mission Impossible” sequels

For thrill is what her cells fancy and crave

As her fun and popularity transcend the very line

Between life and the afterlife

Yet very much alive she is!

***

Bio: Ch. Sravan (Xavier), currently residing in Hyderabad, India, holds a 5-Year Integrated Masters in Economics from the University of Hyderabad (UoH), and is currently working as a Research Assistant at the School of Economics, UoH. His research interests lie in Microeconomics, Economics of Energy, Environment and International Trade. His hobbies include origami, poetry, numismatics and sketching. He is always interested in trying something new and out-of-worldly.

 

---

Setu, October 2022