Ananta Madhavan Poems

Blue, brash, white and grey,
Fluffy, levitant or looming
With tinges of black;
Unremarked and undefined till Now.
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The cave he lives in is a meter from our door,
A man-made hole for rain and swill-water.
He took up vacant possession one day
And recks neither drought nor flood.
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I don't know who or what is the Force.
He, She or It plays by the rules,
Abides by them, may bend or break them,
But never interferes when we cheat at games.
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A window in the art gallery
Frames a taut green, a low wall, a road;
And on the road a shuttling of cars;
Beyond, a hedge and secretive trees;
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Some mornings I can see the rising sun
Has moved a tittle,
Just a little,
Beyond the terrace that has blocked
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At dawn my awakened senses
Muddle my moods and tenses.
I don’t know why or how
Last night segued into Now.
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1. Haiku, Sparse Enough

The onion moon is chopped by ripples.
Pause or pass, don’t count the words.
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From the smudge of a book review
I reconstruct a writer’s artifice
And burgle the dream-trances.
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We inherit a world we did not fashion.
Rainer Maria Rilke called it “an interpreted world”,
Where we do not feel very much at home.
Our fellow-creatures seem to notice it.
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Shakespeare’s Jacques traced the seven ages of man
From “muling and puking” infancy to “second childishness
And mere oblivion, sans teeth… sans everything”.
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