Prathibha Nandakumar Poems

Stars spring out
Of rocks
At his touch
...

He always wore
Black and white
And sun shine
On his face
...

You know every detail.

The black mole on my back
the small scar behind the left ear
...

Grips and engulfs and drowns and
Breaks into sweat, scares you stiff.

The bill boards and T shirts and the
...

To touch or not
was not the question

Penance will definitely give result.
...

That was no fabled coffee table
Just an ordinary four legs and a glass top
that he would never take credit for designing.
It became a master piece by his touch
...

Contemplating on the drawing board
deconstructing stresses and forms,
pursue the ever-slipping six packs,
run away from seeking souls and grouping hands
...

The Yogini sits cross legged in penance in the midst of fire
Holding her heart and red lips tight in her fist
Like a puppy yearning for the master looking around
And its already ten thousand years since they cremated him
...

If it were really a spiritual deal
I would have made a pot out of dry sand
and filled it with water like the mahasati Renuke
and scrapped dirt off my thighs like Parvathi and made
...

I was split open when he walked in through the
glass door wearing a grin that could say
he had got the cream after all.
...