The smell of absence is wafting
from the moon dial,
drawing out its deeper flavor
that teether our eyes
away from the sun.
When you arrive in my dream
the chariots walk on your canvas,
releasing the seven horses,
spin the twenty-four wheels in ecstasy-
the deities still return the offerings.
Shadows are not thrown on the grass
or on the eroded rock face,
the images of Sun God catching rays,
draw geometric pattern on the mystic hands,
give a healing touch inside.
***
Chandrabhaga
Something like blurred images
floating in dream last night-
This place is full of them in misty morning.
Water crosses shoreline, splashes at times
it’s time to drop my dry feet on the water
they are there deep inside the sea,
their eyes are light house, the hands coral reef.
Sun is hiding somewhere behind the clouds
the music flows below the sand sheets,
If you listen well, you will hear it.
the song of the mythical river- Chandrabhaga.
Oil lamps give a handful of metaphors to the pilgrims.
The temple invites footprint of them
on the auspicious day of Makar Sankranti
 |
| Gopal Lahiri |
The fisherman colony lend voices to the wind,
I know there is no painted boats around,
All our shadows drop anchor on shores.
I wait for the final resonance under another sky.
***
Bio: Gopal Lahiri is an India based, bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer and translator with 29 books published, including eight solo/jointly edited books. His poetry is published across anthologies and journals of India and abroad. His poems are translated in 16 languages and published in 12 countries. He has been nominated for Pushcart Prize, for poetry in 2021. He is the recipient of Setu Excellence Award, US, 2020.
Fine poems inked by the fl├вneur in you: congratulations!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
Delete