A sheer uplifting dart

a sudden gust of a wind

and the bird changes the path.

A shifting line of the hill on the sky

and the bird drinks from the chalice to upward fly.

Longer and wider and dazzling, conquering the eye

the perspective grows

and there is no place for a pause.

The wings have taken the rush of the high,

a tide in the sky.

"Ahoy, my boy, this isn't the sea; this is the sky."

"Ahoy, my captain, I am no longer the boy

who did not know

how to row;

In the place of the oar you've given me wings,

and instead of the mast you have given me a single eye.

Do not worry; I can intuit the path."

Sushama Karnik

March 1, 2018

19 plus ones

 The harvest Moon, the strawberry Moon, once in a fortnight forgot the rules

that the Moon has to perforce go shrinking and lose his robes.

One night of ecstasy, the Moon grew like an adolescent kid.

The joy knew no bounds as the Moon could grow larger

than the largest rock of the hill.

The stars looked in awe, the birds wondered why

if they could touch the heart, would they feel the pulse,

and the Moon said, "Come, the doors are open to all of you kids."

A Universe In A Grain Of Thought

 A universe in a grain of thought and rivers in a drop of rain.

Wonder why when sitting in rain

holding an umbrella over my head

I stretch my hand to make sure it is rain.

Dreaming the sun in the middle of the night and dreaming the moon in the bright sunlight

I have stayed awake for many a night

and walked in the scorching sun

dreaming the parasol was you covering me

wrapping me around in the dream of you.

Sushama Karnik (c)

Thanks for the image Milan

Milan Lakić

Home

3 months ago

Saul Leiter

Streets Evolve

 Streets evolve

on a minor scale
like civilizations over centuries.
The line of beginning
is always drawn
arbitrarily, some vague morning in childhood
when the idle child saw
a cat sitting on the fencing wall
meditative, silent, marginalized,
and the street flowing irrelevantly relaxed;
the cat and the street, tied up in a bond
of "Live and let live", and the world passed by
always ahead of the cat , the child and the narrow street.
Years pass by, the child grows up.
The cat is swallowed by the passage of time;
the street has grown, expanded in width;
it's noisy, chaotic and infinitely sad
at the peace and the shadows of palm-trees lost.
No cat basks in the morning sun.
The fencing wall is redundant now;
the sweet neighboring cottages are merged
in one gigantic shopping-mall.

Sushama Karnik (c)
Thanks Milan

Milan Lakić

Home

9 days ago

 Photo album: Црно - беле

Sushama Karnik

17 June · 

My little town has grown big,
too big though for my nostalgia.
After ages we traveled and stood on the road
where once stood a small house with a tiled roof and unpainted walls. 
Now the afternoon sun glared at us,
but we stood our ground and marveled at the atrocities of time;
the time that bent on erasing all;
all the signs of the house we cherished.
The house for which we traveled the whole day and the night
and landed at last on the spot.
There where once was our house now was a showroom,
a display of gaudiness and murky gloom.
There where once stood opposite our home
the little two-storeyed family-home of a friend
now held no signs of a house;
the house was razed to the ground,
It made way for a mall through which we traveled in and out
and on stepping out found ourselves
on the scorching hot cobblestones defying memory and recognition of the past.
That humid and hot afternoon cheated me
out of my links with the past
if it were not for a sudden
entry into a trance.
The afternoon faded into the memory of a dawn
and the dawn brought me the lingering smells
of the balcony and the road, the tongas and cabs,
and the luscious idle hours of the dawn.
I stood transfixed, looking and wondering where it had gone,
the house of my memory with a wooden staircase, the reluctance to hand me over to the world of the school and the strangers, the house where I waited for the sound of the horse's
hooves, the horse-cart which brought my parents home.
And I recalled there was a clock on the outer wall.
It could be seen from afar from the street.
An obelisk which for years had marked
the passage of time; the minutes and the hours
and the silent march
of time, neutral yet anxious to see us safe;
The morning when years ago we said farewell to the home and the clock.
A timeless journey, timeless thoughts.

18You, Jay Dev, Tony Langmach and 15 others

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  Tony Langmach Oh,Timeless journey, timeless thoughts.Such a very nice & sensing poem dear Indian poetress,thanks & wish you a nicely new week 👌✌️🙏

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  Ali Askari So beautiful and touching opened all the closed doors of memories with their colourful smiles and sadness behind the current faded smiles 
  Thank you

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  Sushama Karnik Hope there is more of smiles and less of sadness as the doors of memories are opened, Ali Askari

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  Suma Ro The door stays always open,
  But we are attached to the mirage in our backyard.

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    Sushama Karnik I love the backyards. They are the place where I have a glimpse of the changing flora and the fauna, the past and the present; the place where birds flit in and out and the trees grow uninterrupted. They make me whole; save me from getting fragmented.

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    Suma Ro Sushama Karnik 
    That’s your choice! 😊👌

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    Sushama Karnik What's your choice?

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    Suma Ro Sushama Karnik 
    Staying upright!

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