Nisheedhi s Nature
Poetry
Nature Poetry
nisheedhi
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Pub. on Feb. 25th 2011
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A.
J.
Rao s Poetry
Volume2
A.
J.
Rao
From nisheedhi
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Pub. on Feb. 25th 2011
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Short poetry occasioned by personal events
From nisheedhi
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Pub. on Jan. 21st 2011
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1.
Poetry by A.
J.
Rao
Poetry by A.
J.
Rao
Silences
I hear two old men on the park bench
Speaking softly to each other s silence.
The man s son makes software and money;
His keystrokes break nightly silence
In distant America where dollars rain.
The other man s son lives in this city.
His kids school is on the...
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1. Poetry by A. J. Rao Poetry by A. J. Rao Silences I hear two old men on the park bench Speaking softly to each other s silence. The man s son makes software and money; His keystrokes break nightly silence In distant America where dollars rain. The other man s son lives in this city. His kids school is on the other side. I write my own lyrics and you? I compose mine on the bathroom walls And some times, sing, in dulcet tunes, An exquisite duet with the night cricket. I love this real solo hum that comes From the vacant holes of my insides. I hear it in the silence between my ears. It sounds like the ocean wind that whispers In the needle- hairs of the tall casuarinas On the Bhimili beach on some dark nights. Dream When I live in the night I forget night On the rim of the night I stand apart.
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From nisheedhi
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Pub. on Sept. 10th 2010
Pages: 142
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The dream child
He went through the first flush of his consciousness as a
one-year old infant in the cloth-cradle.
Existence
baffled him .
The snugness of all-around cloth was an
extension of his fetal existence.
Did he really exist?
Was he a real physical self ? The physical world
smothered him.
Did he not exist in Somebody’s...
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The dream child He went through the first flush of his consciousness as a one-year old infant in the cloth-cradle. Existence baffled him . The snugness of all-around cloth was an extension of his fetal existence. Did he really exist? Was he a real physical self ? The physical world smothered him. Did he not exist in Somebody’s dream ? This Somebody, unphysical and dream-like, was enacting a dream, of which he who was himself unreal and a creature of an ethereal world, was a part . At the age of ten he moved about in the physical world uncertain of himself trying to blame his existence on the Somebody who appeared to have made him the Chief Protagonist of the dream-play he seemed to be enacting. What if He stops dreaming bringing an end to this unreal existence ? He became acutely aware, at the age of ten, that he was not the special entity he thought he was. By then he had developed a world-view ,a fragmented one, based upon an amorphous mixture of the half-logic of the workaday w
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From nisheedhi
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Pub. on June 5th 2009
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Fear of Death
In Berhampur the tall silk cotton tree was in full bloom with eccentric -smelling flowers whose scent
haunted you for a furlong as you walked the road.
In the evening his friends used to gather near the
lake for gossip.
The water glistened with lights from the nearby garden restaurant where he and his
friends used to...
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Fear of Death In Berhampur the tall silk cotton tree was in full bloom with eccentric -smelling flowers whose scent haunted you for a furlong as you walked the road. In the evening his friends used to gather near the lake for gossip. The water glistened with lights from the nearby garden restaurant where he and his friends used to sip coffee and if the money permitted , some pudding or other snack. Nothing much happened . The water in the tank stayed still with an occasional ripple caused by a dry flower from the acacia tree . What was his mission ? Sit still on the cement benches with his friends wisps of whose chatter entered his ears like the occasional breeze which rustled in the leaves of the coconut tree in our village? There was this danger of the dream coming to a close as the lights went off and the curtains were down. Did he come here for nothing ? For two months the typhoid worm cornered him and excised him of the devils that had taken permanent residence in him as he we
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From nisheedhi
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Pub. on June 5th 2009
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From out of the blue clouds your song reached my ears
A heap of broken images
When he was ten, Bharati ,his teacher , had incurred the wrath of his grandmother s sister when the
latter had married an upper caste boy.
He hid his embarrassment when the old lady pulled the teacher
up openly .
He himself had a crush on her and hated her...
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From out of the blue clouds your song reached my ears A heap of broken images When he was ten, Bharati ,his teacher , had incurred the wrath of his grandmother s sister when the latter had married an upper caste boy. He hid his embarrassment when the old lady pulled the teacher up openly . He himself had a crush on her and hated her being the target of the fury of his own grandmother s sister. The teacher loved him due to his deliciously perverse intelligence or at least that was what he thought . There was this dark inscrutable look on his face which would certainly have attracted her to him. Kameswari , the dimpled beauty of the class, appeared to feel that Bharati preferred his scintillating intellect to her own famed arithmetical prowess. Or at least that was what he thought. The sadness in her face appealed to him very much and it was his innate desire to cup her tragic face in his little hands and console her. He was very sure that she would not live long and it was only a
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From nisheedhi
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Pub. on June 5th 2009
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The moving lanterns
Once a rumor was rife that the world was
coming to an end.
There was this union
of eight planets , which signified that
the apocalypse had arrived.
Strange ,
hideous creatures roamed the streets at
night .
Headless monsters would be
knocking at your door at midnight and if
you opened the door you would...
More
The moving lanterns Once a rumor was rife that the world was coming to an end. There was this union of eight planets , which signified that the apocalypse had arrived. Strange , hideous creatures roamed the streets at night . Headless monsters would be knocking at your door at midnight and if you opened the door you would freeze to death at the sight of the devil . He had terrifying nights ; while the whole world had slept he stood wide awake awaiting the arrival of the headless monster. He spent countless hours praying to Hanuman who alone could deliver you from out of this danger. He always looked at the lone tiled structure in the Jaggarao s garden with a fear in his belly . That was where the bodies were cut open for postmortem. There was another low-roofed tiled structure in Jaggarao s orchard which housed the rain-meter which mystified him . How did the meter gauge the rain and measure it in so many inches of rainfall? When there were heavy
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From nisheedhi
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Pub. on June 4th 2009
Pages: 14
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