Skip to main content

The Color That Blinds

Every time I close my eyes
I see the green of Kerala countryside
The dark greens of lumbering rubber trees
The even tranquil green of silent paddy fields
The light lemon yellow green from tender clover leaves 

And then I remember your dupatta
Deep red or possibly maroon
Standing out among the Kerala countrysides.

Comments

  1. Beautiful and thought provoking words;-)

    Thank you for the lovely comment on my blog lettersfromlaunna.blogspot.com ♡

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for the visit L. Your blog is now on my reading list :-)

      Delete
  2. Thank you, I added you to my Bloglovin list... I look forward to your future posts :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Whoa...an imagery to fall in love with....m gonna remember your words, whenever I happen to visit Kerala....lovely poem :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Sadia. Kerala is truly breathtaking, so was she :)

      Delete
  4. Light lemon yellow color of tender clover leaves..it shows how deeply you carry a piece of kerala with you everywhere! Beautiful! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You are right N. That's the place where I come from, the place I will someday go back to. Thank you for your comments.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Clarity

I have looked at myself
From the edges of reason
And discovered
That both my sanity and insanity
Springs forth like seasons
Out of my distances from you. Realizing thus
I have allowed the outer rims
Of my diffused sanity
To fritter away into crumbs
Of misplaced memories
From my time with you. I have often found myself being unreasonable
When I am away from you.
And generally insane
When otherwise.

The Dark of the Night

You would not have walked with me
Had the nights been not so scary
And your nightmares
All so real for you.

I would not have held your hands
Had the hands that I wished to hold
Not left me out in the cold.
Let us together, you and I

Celebrate our togetherness
Even as in our silences
We cherish our separateness.

Mar 7, 2015
First published in Indian Sahitya, Feb 2017 Issue on Contemporary Indian Poetry

Objects in the rear-view mirror are…

When it was time for her to go, it was also time for me to let go. Once an irritant is washed out, they say you can start seeing better immediately. All that stupid tears and all that rubbing of the soul, until your eyelids would cry out, no more, no more. 
And then, just like that, one fine day, I wake up, and she was gone.
As the train chugged out
The tracks cried out in senseless
creaks of half despair