Tag: Raymond Carver

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Poetry

When You Look Out and Observe the Bar-headed Geese

By Saranyan BV

Bar Headed Geese in flight.

It’s a misfortune that I went to Sonmarg

And could not step into the woods all by myself,

Could not walk on the snow-clad slopes

Without the guides holding out my hand,

Could not sit on the grass

And chew my apricots without fear;

Could not walk through the apple orchard

Without being cautioned,

Could not touch the sheep

That slept with eyes open,

Could not tread the path that led to pilgrim points

Without army men and AK 47;

Could not walk into the bazaar and buy trinkets

Without looking if it was late,

Could not walk into a village and ask for a glass of water.

The trip was only as good as watching movies

Shot right up there under the gondola cars,

Riding the short-legged horses carting men and women.

The zanisikari [1]horses knew their path,

Knew their snow and the impending storm

And  were not expected to falter.

The bad taste about misfortune weakens

When you look out and observe the bar-headed geese

Fly over the white mountains

The wings seem to tell you are okay, you are okay.

[1] A breed of small horses

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves the works of Raymond Carver.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Categories
Poetry

‘A Stray Feather of Blue’

By Saranyan BV

Courtesy: Creative Commons
TUMBLED BELIEF

We sit on 
one side 
of the seesaw plank,
and think 
we have conquered: 
When you conquer 
one side alone --
Know ye 
Men of Destiny --
There is 
another side 
which needs defending.
Never sit on 
one side 
of the seesaw
and think 
you have arrived.
It’s like collecting
a stray feather of blue,
mistaking it
for an ostentation.
Courtesy: Creative Commons

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves the works of Raymond Carver.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Poetry

Naïve are the Phosphenes

By Saranyan BV

Phosphenes are the colourful depictions of lights that we sense with our eyes closed. Courtesy: Creative Commons
Naïve are the phosphenes

Asleep, when our eyes close,
It is not darkness as we imagine --
A night of timelessness and of starry wisdom unfolds,
In whose halcyon ambience,
Eyes link to ears to
Compose lilt-lyre music of intriguing feathers.
The mind is more alert than when we are awake.
The kind breeze throws up phantasmagorias.
The swank phosphenes,
Unlimited by and native to parameters of the iris’s womb,
Rove with infinite images,
Roving the planet and roving the universe,
Chariots of legitimacy, more beautiful than the colours of rain --
Naïve are the phosphenes, that we have seen, known and never embraced.

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves the works of Raymond Carver.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Poetry

When the Road is Wet

By Saranyan BV

Courtesy: Creative Commons
There are times in life you want
Grandkids crowding around your legs,
And you want to be patient with them.
And times when you don’t want all this.
Want to quietly read books,
To punch the pedals on your bicycle.
There are times when neighbour’s kids
Come to play, they are old enough
To know this is not their home,
But they can come and go.
Fill your life with borrowed joy,
And fill it with space.
It’s time to feel like grandpa
When the road is wet 
And without potholes.

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves the works of Raymond Carver.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Categories
Poetry

No OTP required

By Saranayan BV

Neeladri Road — Bengaluru. Courtesy: Creative Commons
NO OTP REQUIRED

	
The streets are full of Zomato guys,
Amazon, Swiggy courier boys,
These angels of delivery form the axis of weekend bonanza.
Today the pavements lean on kerb railings 
Laden with young men and women
Punching into their mobiles,
The women's skirts this evening shorter than what they normally wear.
The roads are difficult to cross at Neeladri Road,
Even God needs to be careful with the revellers.

How does it matter my pockets are empty and throat dry?
Someone's trying his voice in the rooftop bar,
Using an old mike with cutting-edge karaoke,
Why, I have music to keep me on buddy!

Life is only all it can give, no OTP required.
The range between Glenlivet and palm-toddy isn’t all that big --
I have no hassles with God or OTP.

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves the works of Raymond Carver.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Categories
Poetry

Visiting Mom

By Saranayan BV

Courtesy: Creative Commons
VISITING MOM

When I die and if souls are eternal as they say --
Things such as heaven truly exist,
The first person I would like to meet up there
Is my mom. God listen to me if you are there –

It would be banality if I expect mom to look after me again,
I merely want to thank her for all things she did for me here.
I was to care for her in her late age
And I didn’t.
This gives rise to the desire
To believe in the presence, the timelessness of the soul,
To believe in consciousness as an after-life truth,
To believe in all the inanities born of the lust to live for ever --
Destruction of all that is sane and meets the purpose of logic.

Mom is mom, her concrete efforts to improve 
The standard of my living cannot die,
Either as concept or as proof of having been,
Something that cannot melt, dissolve or be burnt. 

I call upon her, I call upon on her 
As brief of my lost goodness.
There she stands, more like in alter
Hazy and clouded
Not able to see or recognise,
Though the eternal mom has her soul in peace
That I have arrived.

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves the works of Raymond Carver.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.