Vasant Abaji Dahake Poems

Holding my six-year old daughter's hand
I watch your screen-stirring presence, laughter, dance and song.
Watch you talk and act rebellious in the face of this life.
I don't particularly like this life either.
...

Through this evening's window,
through tranquil eyes I watch
on the far road a scene of slaughter:
each day gathered up to be winnowed.
...

No mortal tree, you will keep growing
inside me,
branching in my veins.
...

A night like opium
when the moonlight moans through the water,
that's how your eyes
...

On my burning chest I suffer the monsoon's first showers,
across the film of blood on my eyes a blue light spreads
and in my flesh-marrow-skin the black birds flash
their emerald wings.
...

This is a complete afternoon:
a thousand shards of solitude.
I count
I match
...

Thirst
thighs loins breast throat
thirst
from out the eyes
...

On a rocky tree a mynah,
on a rocky road a steamroller,
the white-hot afternoon
setting a bronze bust on fire.
...

One by one, we left the black-shadow cities behind
and yet I've seen the gutter-yellow eyeballs
of high towers fixed on you.
...

In the see-through jar of this century,
you see preserved
a Larger-than-Life Figure.
A row of jars, a Great One in each.
...