January 30, 2009

Bhaskar Raman: The in-house poet

Raman writes:
This is a running series of short poems I have been writing with the theme of sound. I figured I'd put them all in one thread.
________________________________________

Sound #1

Boiling water flows
into the tea cup —

A thousand
Bodhisattvas chant.
 ________________________________________

Sound #2

34 dreamers
shuffle down wintry streets.
The wind can't whistle out
our candle.
________________________________________

Sound #3 (Or How I Ruined It)

Supple as a wish,
the tendrils of her song
sprinkled the sky
like a stained glass meteor shower.

Astors and arabesques
splashed in puddles of copper;
and trills of blue
and citrus made wanton love in E flat major,
exploding into night,
a trail of nameless colors warbling in their wake.


I met her at the library today.
She laughed
and I named the colors of her eyes.
________________________________________

Sound #4: Citrus Symphony

In the soft "shush"
of orange segments coming apart,
the world becomes silent.
All knots are unraveled
and the heart is freed.
________________________________________


Sound #5 Conception

The scratching
of pen and paper
making love,
making poems.


_______________________________________

Sound #7 - The Teaspoon Sutra

A poet stirs his tea
as though
he were ringing a thousand temple bells.


Sound #8 - Symphony at Mike's Italian Cafe

In the sun-bathed rooftop cafe
in Dharamsala,
the music of the town
are hushed, and yet heightened
by the vastness of the Himalayan valley
and the still, dignified presence of the mountains.

I can hear the murmur of a soft stream of Europeans
talking about Dzogchen.
In the distance, a carpenter makes temples and toilets.
A playful breeze tickles my shopping bags
making them giggle.

Birds whose names I do not know circle overhead,
chanting sutras and tracing yin-yangs in the sky.
How I would love to join them,
gliding through the valley with anonymous wings.

The last wisp of early morning mist
is still clinging to the mountain's apron strings
afraid to be carried away by the wind.

I chew ravioli in the sunshine
and write you poems stained with tomato sauce.
I hope they made you smile
like a beautiful Himalayan morning.
________________________________________

(A reader’s comment: Beautiful as usual Bhasking in the light )


Bhaskar Raman is Deputy Head of the Desk at Mindworks — the same media organization I am with.  This man has a mystique charm and his poetry is soothing.
We're waiting for his first poetry collection.
http://cbox.ws/smilies/1/biggrin.gif

2 discussions:

Gargi said...

The poems are amazing Bhaskar. The metaphors are just exceptional... I really look forward to reading more.

Bhaskar said...

Thank you!

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