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Anuradha Majumdar Legrand

"Mobile Hour"
Frel Sequence 9

When we reach inside
it is jasmine -
fragrant like a quiet night
contemplating the white interiors of dawn.
When sound is released
we become world -
echoing through the dense surround
the soft milk universe.

We infiltrate on the deep fringes of light
like many births of interchange -
till we are young and jasmine
pure of will and dreamed intent.

Anuradha Majumdar Legrand
"Mobile Hour"
Bow And Arrow

Life quivers like a drawn arrow
stretched tightly across the last bow of time,
the risk of release imminent.
The direction points, penetrating the distance
I have no say in this,
I gather my breath to oneness and wait.

The bowstring taut, the moment intensifies.
At one end, the generous hand slips -
the sky leaps open, cerulean! I meet the nearing distance.


Shweta Ketu


Kenneth Fator

"find title"

A man sleeps in the sandbox
of the children's playground,
Chinatown, San Francisco;
audibly snoring while he dreams
of conquests and young continents
lost forever, beyond his reach.

But there was a time
of profaned glory,
of promise in the poet-
speaking of the sacred words,
of transubstantiation;
a magic pure in the voicing
awed the relatively mute.
There is now little promise
in his middle-age,
lying foetal
on the sand still warm;
he sleeps and snores
until the rain and wind,
his bitter children come.


Kenneth Fator
"find title"

Impelled by self-esteem, I dream;
Compelled to fiction's fancy, free
To shape abstracted vanity,
To mould life's pose-or so it seems;
Adventing future's past intent,
In lies event, I, truth invent:
In the beginning, on day none,
Before Creation was hotly sunned,
Before the carnage had begun,
God yawned and the world fell out. . .

As if with earth-worms, God fished man,
And hooked on a cross's span.
The Sacrificer's Son was shunned.
His peace lost in life's turn-about.

Fish-man wept while mill-stones ground-
Past milestones crept the beetle-browed,
Cowed. Into darkness light was spun;
Stunned en-route, joy's almighty shout!

Earth looped-the-loop; God's yo-yo toy;
Christ's gift seemed an Ionic ploy.
Resurrected, the wounds still run
Recalled, by grace consoled, no doubt.



"Poems From Auroville"
Early One Morning

The sun got up; then so did I,
slow and cosy, half in sleep.
Stumbling out, I sat upon the step:
receiving nothing from the night
I expected nothing from the day.
There was a tree in flower,
a scratching dog,
the sun was shining on the sea.
But then, at half-past by the clock,
the world turned over....flip!...
and changed all that.
And when it all had settled down,
resplendently I saw:
a tree in flower,
a scratching dog,
and the sun O shining on the sea.



"Poems From Auroville"
Earth Bird

Once my lord Jesus, as a boy,
Found on the village street a little toy -
A bird of clay. He took it in his hands of joy
And breathing on it secretly
Filled it with life and ecstasy.
So it took wing and eagerly
Flew singing, singing, high and high -
Lost in immensities of sky.
And still its triumphant loving cry
Was heard below in streets of mud
By men of earth. O Loving Lord,
I offer you my human heart -
It is not very wide nor very pure
And all its depths are still obscure
To me, though you with your clairvoyant eye
Have plumbed perhaps its little mystery.
This struggling heart, O purify -
Let it be worthy of the flame
It longs to bear, and of its name.
O take it in your hands of joy
And breathe upon it secretly
Then will this little bird of clay
Take wing and fly towards the Sun.

"Cantos con piel" (tr.)
Matrimandir Rose And Cement

Grey perfume stains our hands
a strong sweetness,
the future grows,
and in a dovetailing of suns
a ray is caught.

seed of fragrant steel.



from: Another Journey
Lone tree in Last School

In its early morning dreams
the tree is shedding leaves
ripened brown.
In the day
the tree stands still
and silent
in its inward journey.

In the evening,
the tree stands adoring
the flying clouds
and the blossoming birds
with a gracious look.

And during the dark hours
when the whole town sleeps,
the tree is wide awake,
carrying the light,
even in its eyelashes.

This lone tree
is learning all the time.


from: Another Journey
This, me

I watch red stemmed jasmine,
carrying the honey
within their fingers breath
as they measure the space
to make a new home.
Golden green beetles
pass under rain
dripping from leaves

as if trying to wash away
the black dots on their backs.

The schoolgirl in me
springs out,
makes balls of red soil,
playfully throwing them
on the palmyra tree
that has just enjoyed a nice bath.

rain again.


Ganesh Bala Iyer
The Citadel

slice of darkness
of an inch and a half
separate the wardrobe
from the once white wall
enacting between planes surreal fantasies
with soft-glow whites
and black-head spots
immersed in veils of gummy-greys.

spider's highrise
watchtower mechanics
mom on top
dad long gone

rest rest below


Ganesh Bala Iyer

Each morning
i start startled
to her meows
loud by my ears
hunger calls
blasting eardrums
pound like African drummers
on a night of the feast

a pillow thrown
at the noise
effects a jerky meow
preceding scurrying paws

a few minutes of hush
and the drummers begin afresh

from the side of the bedroom door
where pillows can't reach


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