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INDIRA SADANANDAN

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 7/15/2015 |




RUNNING FINGERS

What is happiness?
It is the invention of the unknown
Realisation of wishes.
Once you are remembered by a new friend,
A stranger comes with a bouquet
To pray along with you at your father's tomb
On the anniversary day,
A hand falls on your shoulders to solace you
When you lose a bundle of money
Kept for a critical situation,
These are all carriers of sweet memories
In a winter night
There you fall on the lap of silence
These like birds making spots on the skyblue
With white clouds in an
Upper sanatorium.
There you are running your fingers
on my back neck.

HIGH ON THE SKY

A languor was lent to me
On the intervals of my imagination
Fly high on the sky
To have a look on life over the globe
It landed down
On the branches of tall trees,
Sometimes on the shores of
Boisterous ocean and some other
Times very closed to the flaming sun
It doesn't waver or flutter
No calm dream it has
It is a taper caught fire from the
Burning sun
It rushes on you with
Overwhelming passion
To lend the light and heat to you
I am yours, you own me

SPRING ARRIVED

My hand bloomed
Aurora of a blazing morning
We flew towards the east
A mellow word shining came across
One two three,
Words in abundance
The spring arrived
My sheet of paper full with words
We flew over empty fields
And boundless lea
We both, you and I
It is you that give fragrance
To all I write.
y some unknown photographer
Now I am sad having the feeling that
I didn't love my father strongly
When the phone talk finishes
When I look at the bleeding sky
The vision of the Sun
Subsiding with the ocean waiting for long
For the solemn union
My eyes are wet, my physique tired
Seeking a bed to lower the weight on.

[INDIRA SADANANDAN]


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