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देव - marathi poem

कधी कधी
दुसरं कुणीच
बोलायला नसतं
मग आपण
देवाशी बोलतो.
एरवी देव
मानत नाही.
तसंही आपण
माणसात देव
नाही, तर
देवात माणूस,
आपलंसं माणूस
शोधत असतो.
~ अलका, २०१७


The unstable poem

It lurks at the edges, on the periphery of my vision

slipping, slithering, undulating like a serpent

tantalising.. taking flight,

swooping, diving, forming figures of eight.

And just when all its parts seem

to be falling in place,

along comes a Harrier

picking words off like prey,

dispersing the rest

over shimmering waters of the mind.

If only I could lure it

into my gingerbread house..

But the poem insists

on being a wave and a particle

at the same time.


Monsoon Land

In our monsoon land
horizon is where
the parrot meets the dove

In our monsoon land
fifty shades of green
sing brazenly

In our monsoon land
woodfire smoked chai
is spiked with rain

In our monsoon land
clouds come rolling down
why bother with raining?

In our monsoon land
rain water reddens
on meeting earth

In our monsoon land
a flock of egrets
awaits the ploughing

In our monsoon land
the farmer walks
along with the bullocks.


On a mountain

Here in the upper reaches of the mountain
We rest on a sun-baked rocky slope.

How the continents must have heaved and clashed
And gentle water coaxed the valleys.
Once upon a time.

Now we see the land below
The trees bunched like tightly woven wool
The houses and paths and cerulean lakes in miniature.

In the silence a lark twitters somewhere.
A strand of breeze brings the warm scent of wildflowers
And the essence of time.