Bonsai Poem by Murali Sappa

Quirkily, with enthusiasm moribund

And the rush from the work behind

Ruminations in a husk, Shadows creep at dusk

Aside, a tiny tree on the desk



I pulled the sapling, a bonsai in the making;

With a pair of scissors, quivering hands crafting

There lay cluttered, the snipped roots

And the just sprouted tender green twigs and shoots.



The stifled thoughts of a suppressed tot!



I finished crimping, and debilitated,

Just when the little tree yearned to grow.

Just like they did it in the school, and scorned,

When I started longing for logic.



Like that little gold fish circling fluently,

In the constraints of my living room aquarium;

Like that canary tweeting mellifluously,

Behind the bars of the cage in the backyard patio;

This little bonsai, in a pot next to the door steps,

Quizzed; ensured my conscience censured.



Once again, in the dim lights of passing thoughts …