IN THE COUNTRY COTTAGE by Nizzim Ezekiel

 The night the lizard cam 

 our indolence was great;

 we went to bed before

 our eyes were heavy, limbs

 prepared to stretch or love.

 Immobile, tense and grey,

 he taught us patience as

 he waited for the dark.

 From time to time we could

 not help but glance at him

 and learn again that he

 was more alive than us

 in silent energy,

 though his aim was only

 the death of cockroaches.

 When we awoke the next

 morning we found as we

 expected that the job

 was done, clean and complete,

 and the stout lizard gone.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Hot Noon In Malabar By Kamaladas

This is a noon for beggars with whining Voices, a noon for men who come from hills With parrots in a cage and fortune-cards, All stained with time, for brown Kurava girls With old eyes, who read palm in light singsong Voices, for bangle-sellers who spread On the cool black floor those red and green and blue Bangles, all covered with the dust of roads, Miles, grow cracks on the heels, so that when they Clambered up our porch, the noise was grating, Strange………   This is a noon for strangers who part The window-drapes and peer in, their hot eyes Brimming with the sun, not seeing a thing in Shadowy rooms and turn away and look So yearningly at the brick-ledged well.   This Is a noon for strangers with mistrust in Their eyes, dark, silent ones who rarely speak At all, so that when they speak, their voices Run wild, like jungle-voices. Yes, this is A noon for wild men, wild thoughts, wild love. To Be here, far away, is torture.   Wild feet Stirring up the dust, this hot noon, at my Home
Read more

SUMMER WOODS By Sarojini Naidu

O I am tired of painted roofs and soft and silken floors, And long for wind-blown canopies of crimson gulmohars! O I am tired of strife and song and festivals and fame, And long to fly where cassia-woods are breaking into flame. Love, come with me where koels all from flowering glade and glen, Far from the toil and weariness, the praise and prayers of men. O let us fling all care away, and lie alone and dream ‘Neath tangled boughs of tamarind and molsari and neem! And bind our brows with jasmine sprays and play on carven flutes, To wake the slumbering serpent-kings among the banyan roots. And roam at fall of eventide along the river’s brink, And bathe in water-lily pools where golden panthers drink! You and I together, Love, in the deep blossoming woods Engirt with love-voiced silences and gleaming solitudes. Companions of the lustrous dawn, gay comrades of the night, Like Krishna and like Radhika, encompassed with delight.
Read more

Composition by Kamala Das

 Ultimately, I have come face to face with the sea. In the beginning The sea was only the wind’s Ceaseless whisper in a shell. But lying beside my grandmother, Quite often I thought That I could hear at night The surf breaking on the shore. The sea was only two miles away. That was long ago. Before the skin, Intent on survival, Learnt lessons of self-betrayal. Before the red house that had Stood for innocence Crumbled And the old woman died, Lying for three months, Paralyzed, While the thieving ants climbed her hands And ate the cuticle. Perhaps my innocence is not All that lost, If the stones still endure And pieces of mortar lie scattered In the field. It may be That in my heart I have replaced love with guilt And discovered That both love and hate are Involvements. But this only signifies growth And, growth is natural. The tragedy of life Is not death but growth, The child growing into an adult And, growing out of needs, Discovering That the old have black-rimmed nails And sc
Read more