I DID NOT OWN...

I did not own the night

when the waves

broke on the rocks.

The moon fell into the waters

like a crystal ball

and the splinters came floating to me.

I did not own the moon when you sang,

with no break till the dawn.

I did not own the beach

when with lilting steps the girls danced upon the waves..

The morning waited with patience behind the hill.

I did not own that hill.

You brought a crate of beer

and the stars came down on the floor

drunk on the elixir of love.

I did not own that love.

You saw me distraught

over the unheard melodies

when the universe was singing

right in front of me.

And I was distraught that I did not own the universe.

I wanted to stop the outpouring of the verse

flowing ceaselessly out of the harp.

How could I stop it?

I did not own the harp.

After every pause, you took up the song,

and I followed because I did not own the song.

A snake charmer went on and on with the magical strain,

And I dropped exhausted; I gasped because now you whistled

some unheard melody between the notes of the song.

Before I could pick up the words, the whistling stopped.

I could not own the words.

That night, that moon, that song,

that sea and that crate of beer,

that harp and the whistle and the wind

are still somewhere in the space,

and this eternal thirst in me

that I could own none of those things..

Sushama Karnik. May 2017.

Very touching

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Sushama Karnik

Sachin Chand Thank you.

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Arif Sayed

lovely

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Sushama Karnik

Arif Sayed Thanks, Arif.

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Françoise Dhulesia

I am in awe.

As I was reading the poem the second time, I could feel the rhythm speeding up, following the uncontrolled cadence and narration of a scene that could have well been taking place in a dream, with reality and fiction sharing the same boundaries.

I am in awe at the construction of the poem as a whole, with the anaphora ( "I did not own") creating an effect of symmetry and insistence, like a leitmotiv, like an obsession, like a marker emphasizing the rhythm, stressing the distress of the narrator at not being able to quench her thirst for knowledge, for love, for life! The last anaphora, this "that", rings out in my mind as I read the last lines.

Between night dream, nightmare and daydreaming, in the end, the reader joins the narrator in her eternal quest.

What a whirling for all senses!

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Sushama Karnik

I must say, I am in awe of of the beauty and spontaneity of the way you have recounted your own response to my poem. It was a few months past the passing away of my husband. The poem came with a stunning force when I was reading a customary disclaimer … 

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Françoise Dhulesia

Sushama Karnik Thank you, Sushama for sharing the very intimate circumstances of the poem. Being aware of it indeed adds a new light to my reading and explains this sense of disorientation and loss.

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Hamid Ben

Quand on est pris dans les maillons de l'amour, ses flots nous emportent on ne possède plus rien, c'est un torrent dont la force nous emporte tel un fétu de paille, il nous dépasse, très beau poème chère Sushama

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Daniele Chany

Magnifique poème chére Sushama , bisous mon amie .