Tag: poem

un•tether

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

In a time of great vulnerability and feeling exposed to the dangers of the darkness seeping into my uncorked brain;
I tethered my psyche to her through a non existent umbilical cord.
A weak tether for our age, I misjudged the strength. I needed it more than her, thus titling the balance to my disadvantage.
I had assimilated all aspects of my existence and my raison d’être and tightly anchored it to the spiral cage of her hair.

We wrote a manifesto of false promises, agendas of fulfilling unreal expectations, and plans to execute shortsighted pleasure and childish trifle.

Suffice it to say that I was nearly killed.

One shouldn’t be this exposed in the first place. Tender and raw like a newborn, I was visible,
my long face in the periphery of every set of eye balls with a glean of concern over corneas like dripping butter on steel plates- they’d come up to me and say “it’ll be alright.”

-Tanmay

red on green

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

pleas to sustain and spare the pain

we’re bared to you for your gain

no cloak no quilt

only a mother’s guilt,

watching the glee with which

my green roots and shoots

trembled under your creaky boots;

grumbling old men with jittery teeth

that clatter and grind over beetle leaves

and worms in gums that chatter together

leaving big stains and a cancerous pane

of crimson and brown and blood and hound.

grumbling old men that don’t hesitate

to strike check mate-

and bring my fate,

axes and picks and saws- a dozen

only to kill all millions heathens.

grumbling old men that use the knife

to kill all of their wives

it’s similar to that don’t you see?

I served them too with brilliant tea.

so life is cut and life is eased

life is cut and life is eased

for deserted plains that resemble grey

desperation and dismay

-Tanmay

cut the crap and work

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

we’re all grasses in a field

different shades

swaying in the wind

caressed by a dogs furs

or dumped on by his shit

and we let ants pass through

and let our earth be churned by worms

enjoying the minutest tectonic shift to the actual earth

still it’s important for our life

the adversity offered by the soil turners

helps in growth

or character

I don’t know

they say something along those lines,

but let’s go ahead swaying under

the winds of the city

carrying with them the ashes of, dreams-

fulfilled

and crushed.

we sense it all in an attempt

to make sense

and realise that

our soil is poor

we could have done more

but we were stuck with thinking

the grass is greener on the other side

the grass is greener on the other side…

-Tanmay

part

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

oh how he wailed into the lacerating night

the night he lost his wife

he wailed and wailed and wailed

until the clouds parted and a concerned

moon showed its scarred face

and gave the man a shadow to pour his pain out

of course it didn’t help

what could a moon do except raise some water day in and day out

so our man howled and wailed and cursed the

silent knife of a night

the silent night that let his wife pass away

unceremoniously

-Tanmay

bathroom bedlam and drugs

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

leaky faucets dripping incessantly

birthing a river; home to invisible creatures

I

on the pale commode

with my feet on the cheapest tiles we could afford ten tears ago

see transparent squids through silent eyes

tentacles warping in all directions

touching toes

touching souls

to transfer a message

between species, a message from the sea

of salt and petals and sharks and seagulls

the water calls

me

and I feel it on my head

the water

“Yes! I feel it!

A few drops! Like rain!”

but it’s only my slumber

that has me forgetting that

the electric geyser up there also leaks

-Tanmay

brown

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

Everyday we drink tea, resting the tea cups on round jute coasters on a large brown wood coffee table with an even larger brown tinted glass surface.

The tint makes the newspapers below look 30 years old- as if they were fished out from our storage room, but of course they bear today’s day and date- neat and crisp.

The rusk often drips into the tea as we stare into our respective screens on quiet mornings of days’ that we know entail toil. The unuttered desperation for rest adds to the silence, broken periodically by the stunted cries of stunted sparrows. The sparrrows are smaller than they used to be 20 years ago. Their plumage pathetic now, dirt-like instead of the browns that we have preserved in our eyes.

A three-some of green parrots show up at the window near the dining table, overlooking the cemetery. Always in threes, and always silent for the fear of attracting a predator who’d claw them down.

Only once have I sighted a large hawk in our skies, gawking over the cemetery as if it was its land. How would I explain to it that that land is disputed property…

-Tanmay

kids and poetry

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

Been a busy three days tending to poetic desires. It is a relief to know that if you keep your head down and put in the work, it’ll pay off.

Writing has offered a steady support for a long time. It’s an exercise that if done for pleasure will furnish peace. There’s endless possibilities of the magic that can be crafted through pen and paper. Once an idea strikes I translate it into an image, and I describe it as best as possible. Slowly I feel that the poem itself dictates how it’ll turn out to be and I am just a medium.

There’s a lot of exploration to do and I will keep sharing what I find as I find it.

-Tanmay

muse solaire

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

*

what hesitation do I hold, when the sun broke through me

how do I stop when you already hallowed mine pen with thy lips, and so I wrote on

the papyrus too thin, letting the letters suspend in the air- a curtain for your face

nestled in hair that beamed of spring in monsoon, evident of misplaced power commandeered by

the eyes, the eyes capable of inciting cold blooded murder and vanishing into sage like meditation,

altering the course of comets and destinies,

but lip service is all I am providing now, hoping that the letters be assimilated and drunk, hoping that there’s more…

*

-Tanmay

PS: I am in the mood for writing poetry only these days. Please bear with me.

nightmare

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

These serpentine dreams of mine

latch onto me,

dragging me down

long after I’ve woken up,

it’s the incubus of epic proportions

reminding me of sins that were

the poison dilutes my blood

and I hallucinate- an extension of nightmares- a contorted scarecrow’s screaming cries

ringing in my ears

the rustling summer wind gives me cotton mouth

sweat drops like a river from my hair to my chin

and then the pounding of the earth

with no time to turn around

all I see from the corner of my eye-

vile wolves with red eyes jumping on me…

-Tanmay

self portraiture in hell

~ Tanmay ~ Leave a comment

rough sandpaper

against my cheek,

she hummed her tale of yesteryear’s glory

and I focused on the roughness against my portrait

what if it were to leave a stain?

what if I were to be a branded man?

a marked man

taken to the gallows

for not listening to the glory of a woman

glory of fire, blood and tears in a holy mix-

injected intravenous,

with Stairway to Heaven playing in the background

I never liked that song though

would have rather listened to the cat and monkey screeching at each other

and with her tale unheard still,

she slapped me hard

and I saw stars for a moment

and then she got up and left

and so did the monkey

naturally I named the cat Persephone.

-Tanmay