Treasure Island

G. S. Sharat Chandra

(1938 – 2000 / Nanjangud, Karnatak / India)

Valley of the Crows, India


At the sudden edge
where the hill gapes into the valley,
a gnarled mimosa leans
away from the sky
to shade a heap of pebbles,
a raven sits cleaning its beak,
its eyes ancient as guilt.
Without much sympathy
boyish waiters tell the story:
a paltry priest, his orthodox wife,
and lonely daughter
took care of the temple nearby.
It was a worthless living
between bosoms of crippled gods.
There was famine,
pilgrims went elsewhere
where gods flourished
under influential care.
The daughter grew like a lush vine
through the crevices of poverty,
a rich man took her,
ashamed, the mother led
the pregnant girl to the valley,
jumped together arms spread,
it was windless,
no one heard a cry or prayer.
When the crows were done,
no one could find the scattered bones,
the priest went deranged,
rang the temple bells for days
as if to ask the ravens.
The hill is now a tourist resort
where week-end revellers
sit drinking cold beer,
listening to the past held
in the gyrating postures
of waiters who are also guides
to the temple kept intact
with its tragedies.
I among them,
and the raven which slaps
its groomed wings in memory.
Exile
We have everything
telephones, TV, schedules for readings,
addresses, invitations,
but we circle our chairs,
ask aimless questions
who was the angel at the airport
singing names on the intercom
as if she were calling us?
Why are we shouting
our names into mirrors,
awake in a dream
where sirens draw near?
Women sit close
all evening under lamps
to read what we wrote
lost in their country.
Our hands are empty,
our words roam in the city.
Even our rooms are shaped
like boats
to make us buoyant,
yet we drift without docks,
our heads are numbers
bobbing on the streets,
in between the lights,
words are raindrops on our fists.
You can throw anything into the sea,
the sea opens,
the sea zips itself back.
In the strange buildings,
hosted by linguists
we seek walls to hold us steady,
let our ghosts converse.

Submitted: Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Valley of the Crows, India by G. S. Sharat Chandra )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. this day, sheade rudman
  2. Love Always, Saturday Chikezie Promise
  3. Smile Not For All, Savita Tyagi
  4. Life with you, Saturday Chikezie Promise
  5. Love for OLUEBUBE, Saturday Chikezie Promise
  6. Broken Dreams, Saturday Chikezie Promise
  7. My mattress, Nassy Fesharaki
  8. أولوية, مالك حداد
  9. Finding Self, Pradip Chattopadhyay
  10. سأهبك غزالة, مالك حداد

Poem of the Day

poet Paul Laurence Dunbar

The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.

The Wind is hiding in the trees,
...... Read complete »

   

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  3. If, Rudyard Kipling
  4. Twice Shy, Seamus Heaney
  5. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  6. First Lesson, Philip Booth
  7. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  8. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  10. No Man Is An Island, John Donne

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]