GREEN LEAVES
Ashok Niyogi
The stuff of reality
As flint stones spark fire
And auto tires get eaten up by roads.
Surfboards that catch a particular wave.
Sometimes it all feels so na•ve
That I’d much rather dive beneath dreams
For oysters which may yield a pearl
To adorn the artful turn
Of a golden strand
Whilst I learn and endure.
Strings of fortune garlanded with time,
Oceans of grime
Whilst even you endure my tired rhyme.
If you don’t sing along with me
It will seem as if I shriek in solitude.
The tides will watch
As oceans churn up divine nectar.
It is not time yet to lecture me in dry auditoriums.
My horses of fancy
May be in their infancy.
It is not even necessary to tell me why
Pigs fly.
That absolute will wait to be answered by the absolute
For I can only reason with reason.
So tell of today:
Tell me of this breath that you take.
The sequential harmony of breathing
Is ultimately all there is about strife.
If you can breathe properly you will jive.
Tell me of today:
Was there a cloud cover?
Snow or rain or sleet?
Did people retreat into gastronoms? (1)
Were there scenes of muffled human beings driven by the wind through the snow?
Let me know.
If I can see through your eyes
Distances will not matter.
I will tell you which way I go,
You tell me which way you go.
We both have tickets for the avtobus (2)
But they are in your purse.
So we don’t really have to rush.
The thrush is a bird that trills.
But midway through its lifespan
As it sleeps,
Even the thrush snores.
It is so important to learn to know
Which way the wind will turn.
How the shadows fall.
How in winter-
The trees will stall
Agonies of birth
Of green leaves.
(1) Gastronoms - Shops selling food.
(2) Avtobus - Electric trolley buses
Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.
Problems with this page? Then deal with it...
