image: thegraphicsfairy.com
Scordatura
Spring
surprises us this time.
"Don't close the door yet.", it says.
"Death awaits on the doorstep."
We cover our mouths as if
our emotion will escape
through the orifices, yaps.
Death seems to stoop in our yard,
spread an endless fistful of seeds
and spit to provide them nourishment.
Litanies of leaves recite breeze.
Spring keeps the door open.
We stand near the apartment's end.
"Don't close the door yet.", it says.
"Death awaits on the doorstep."
We cover our mouths as if
our emotion will escape
through the orifices, yaps.
Death seems to stoop in our yard,
spread an endless fistful of seeds
and spit to provide them nourishment.
Litanies of leaves recite breeze.
Spring keeps the door open.
We stand near the apartment's end.
Monologue
The bird's monologue demands
nothing of the listeners,
now not being a time for
breadcrumbs;
the clouds prearrange their thoughts
and then think them out aloud;
the monologue comes into fashion,
and the roads of this city
drift harking and mishearing
what, one possibility may claim,
could have opened the spaces
only truths can level.
The bird cares not if they listen.
Kushal Poddar edited
the online magazine ‘Words Surfacing’. He authored
‘The Circus Came To My Island’ (Spare Change Press, Ohio), A Place For Your
Ghost Animals (Ripple Effect Publishing, Colorado Springs), Understanding The
Neighborhood (BRP, Australia), Scratches Within (Barbara Maat, Florida),
Kleptomaniac's Book of Unoriginal Poems (BRP, Australia), Eternity
Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems (Hawakal Publishers, India) and now Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel (Alien Buddha Press)
Enjoyed. And yeah, the birds don't care.
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