A humming word

Sunlight dapples on an antiquated Writing table. From the drawer, semi closed, A rusty nib pen Peeks and twirls On the writing board It taps a letter pad That rumbles And lays morose The ink pen awaits And when the moonlight glitters on the table, the letter pad calls out to the ink pen that feebly walks to the writing pad and writes a poem before slipping into the semi closed drawer

Dear Autumn, I remember when summer passes and winter doesn't freeze the county yet, you’d be there – in red and green and yellow – waiting for us walk by the lakes and ogle at you. Autumn or Fall is when the leaves fall to make way for the trees to go bare during winter but look, how you’ve made loss festive too. Oh you colorful magnificence – none could escape you if they walked the Midwestern highway where you are holding the colorful leaves – like a placard to pause and remind us of the oncoming gloom of winters. Like a poster of a movie. But your leaves are colorful and despite the vermin that nibble on you, you look splendid and  your leaves are still sown at the back page of many notebooks. The leaves are dried - autumn has passed but your imprint remains. Love, Someone who lived in Wisconsin A state of deers, milk, cheese coffee, artists, and Bocce Ball pictures: n i v i e, sanju (my cousin)

 I spill silence on this page and dip a brush into the  into ink of the starless night  a stroke of brush here a stroke of brush there Look: it's your name /for a friend/

There is no room for angst in this house. Here, tears hide behind index fingers, and anger is grated in the coconut to prepare chutney— chutney as bitter as last night, when words minced dreams. A thousand pieces splattered around the house— and there’s no room that can contain it. Picture: Shravan K    

 

 On the song from Rangasthalam We are puppets Being directed By an unknown hand   In the hindu mythology, Ganges is the wife of Shiva Wind is the father of Hanuman To quench our thirst Or to breathe air We need their permit   Flute is the medium for Krishna the Trishul is the weapon of Kali to sing a song or to fight with a weapon We need their permit   The keeper of Dharma  is Dharmaraju The person with no mercy  is Yamadharmaraju If you break Dharma You meet Yama We are puppets And a society of puppets                

Brooklyn Bridge of New York Doesn’t seem as clear as the one in How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. Dazy with the medication of a medical condition I am cured of now, I remember the red and blue blinking lights Of the New York streets From the hotel window.