________________________________________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.
Boiling water flows
into the tea cup —
shuffle down wintry streets.
The wind can't whistle out
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.
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
of pen and paper
A poet stirs his tea
he were ringing a thousand temple bells.
Sound #8 - Symphony at Mike's Italian Cafe
In the sun-bathed rooftop cafe
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.