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Mapping our space – Fog

https://pogamanchu.wordpress.com/2016/12/19/mapping-our-space

December 19, 2016. December 19, 2016. A fine warm line goes forward, in a single track and then loops and turns us toward the sky as if the earth were sky with our footprints missing or erased willfully by winds. We first map country homes with electric poles and the abandoned substations with bat-homes. We then enter casuarina trees in their tall homes. Beyond them is a rise of the sea with no map, only a dull ocean sound for our cartography. Canada is immigrant’s map of a maple leaf. A low hanging fruit.

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The steadfast canine – Fog

https://pogamanchu.wordpress.com/2016/12/13/the-steadfast-canine

December 13, 2016. The sun is up above a winter breeze , in gray clouds. A silky brown dog is tugging at a master’s leash ,generally curious about wayside grass. In Melbourne the sun rose five hours ago in WhatsApp . The sun might have got into the metro, holding gleaming handrails. Here, in my mornings I have poetry words stuck from desultory readings in the cyber wastes. Straggler words do make a poem or two and bring up a gleaming image from the bottom of night. A low hanging fruit. You are commenting...

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Good bones – Fog

https://pogamanchu.wordpress.com/2017/01/01/good-bones

January 1, 2017. January 1, 2017. The loved one’s bones cannot be all that good when in the clay-pot. The clay-pot cannot be all that good if hurled in mid-waters, with a promise not to turn back. The promise cannot be all that good if the boat has turned back from eddy. The eddy cannot be all that good if it closes too. You can make it beautiful. Referring to Maggie Smith’s poem “Good Bones. 8221; that went viral recently). Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Address never made public).

indianmetaphor.wordpress.com

January 2017 – Indian Metaphor

https://indianmetaphor.wordpress.com/2017/01

Poems with Indian motifs, Indian cultural expressions. The Hibiscus: The hibiscus. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. A phototographer's diary. A poet's diary. I and The Body. Poetry of the moment. The language of thought. What goes on inside. Follow me on Twitter. Then, at the dead of the night. A river’s waters rose , swelled. And spilled over to the village. The mountains then looked on. As a flying chariot-in-flames. Had sheared the edges smooth.

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Meaning – Fog

https://pogamanchu.wordpress.com/2016/12/29/meaning

December 29, 2016. December 29, 2016. In the bus the tiny girl suggested many levels, layers of meaning filtering into a cozy bus from the information spread about in the bus around the driver seeing in the rear view mirror and passers-by who vaguely whizzed past him. It was for me to make meaning synchronizing my plane of existence with hers. At another level a fuzzy sun set on the still lake as if the collected lake had to speak for the day without orange sun blazing in other side. Fog in the throat.

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Mom’s watch – Indian Metaphor

https://indianmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/12/11/moms-watch

Poems with Indian motifs, Indian cultural expressions. The Hibiscus: The hibiscus. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. A phototographer's diary. A poet's diary. I and The Body. Poetry of the moment. The language of thought. What goes on inside. Follow me on Twitter. She was our mom , big mom. In green, fond of wrist watch. She gives us mixers to make. Our truth and hers palatable,. Keeps ticking watch with her. Let watch be buried as truth.

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Wasp | Momentary poems

https://momentarypoems.wordpress.com/2017/01/04/wasp

Fragments of life, contextual experiences viewed as brief intersections of time and space. My wasp flies in to its mud-house. On this my computer table where. Poems are made like mud-houses. Wasp re-lives the imperial novel,. A passage to the subject country. With woman talking to its wasps. Here is wasp in a room with man. On computer typing wasp poems,. A mud-house for its future wasps. References are to William Carlos Williams’ poem Man in a Room. And Forster’s novel A Passage to India). I and The Body.

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October 2016 – Indian Metaphor

https://indianmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/10

Poems with Indian motifs, Indian cultural expressions. The Hibiscus: The hibiscus. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. A phototographer's diary. A poet's diary. I and The Body. Poetry of the moment. The language of thought. What goes on inside. Follow me on Twitter. Somewhere in journey, under a banyan tree. I meet this stranger with a colorful headgear. Sitting heavily on his head, his legs swathed. In silk dress-cloth, torso decked in camphor. Leave...

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The G’s – Indian Metaphor

https://indianmetaphor.wordpress.com/2017/01/12/the-gs

Poems with Indian motifs, Indian cultural expressions. The Hibiscus: The hibiscus. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. Light grew less in his eyes and other poems. A phototographer's diary. A poet's diary. I and The Body. Poetry of the moment. The language of thought. What goes on inside. Follow me on Twitter. We try to picture great grandmother. We did not know who our g.g.m. was. But would dream her in holy thread. On shirtless chest, a lump in throat. Our sacred thread runs left to right ,.