Passerby Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

The palm tree flowers downwards,
Pushing imagination along the spine
Of the fronds with green arrows
Shiny one side, and hollow the other.

Ahead of me, they are sauntering,
Shorter than her by six inches
Can she love him and look up to him?

Parts of my body unconnected
Feel pain, now together, now in sequence;
And yet eyes don’t miss a single
Shapely figure or curves:

A passing woman bends near my feet
Picks up three wood-like pieces
Tells me, “It is for puja”, I cant understand.

Brought pen and paper in different pockets
Having written only the top line
That has been the flotsam in my mind
Last three days off and on.
Took decision to write it down hearing
Arundhathi is writing new poems.

I know I am ordinary, prosaic
Felt it today morning too while reading Boat-ride
Of Arun Kolhatkar: me nothing original.

Was reading Camus on Sisyphus
But was bored: he doesn’t make sense.

I have not grown up to appreciate
Existentialism, despite my western name
Nor to create images of poetic beauty
Despite my years of reading of
English Literature.