Poetry Is Holistic: Five Fragments Poem by Ananta Madhavan

1.

The onion moon is chopped by ripples.


2.

Save me from the crumbling touch
With song or jewelled words,
Whose tension like a bubble makes
A geodesic whole.


3.

O grasp and clutch at anything.
A bird builds a nest,
Lines it with silken drooling.
Bird-craft is instinct, but word-craft
Is painful, error-born it is.


4.

I remember how
The things I had assembled
Fell away in pieces,
Bidding me rebuild entire.

What is the art which puts together bits
Of broken persona with fragments
From discontinuous life?

5.

Like skaters or skiers
Or dancers or divers,
Like the crossword solver,
The mate and the joker,
The poets of the day
Are every man and you,
The gifted amateur.