saranyan bee
saranyan bee Poems
There are many bridges in this place
the one I see I shall have to cross,
what if long,
arduous and pebble-some,
...
Three house flies
There were three flies in my room!
Three house flies,
Harmless by the groom!
...
I wait in the western beach
for the lonely sunset,
watching sunset is a rich affair
...
I was born,
then like a dropp from a large cesspool
escaping to find a course
in the loneliness of wisdom,
...
I like superstitions!
they are like dreams,
in the wilderness of sensations,
wild-beat lotus
...
I have been watching the gardener,
All Tuesdays, that’s when he comes along
To tend to the little landscaped lawn
And the garden in this motley town.
...
He said,
‘Ego is a difficult path’,
so I unburden myself of it.
...
I never look into the town bus
when I board one
to see who’s in.
It makes less sense
...
Where are the mice,
where are the mice,
in the slumber full of dice
my lips read
...
I am the accused No1!
Here I stand, veiling my short breaths
with a snakes’ growl,
I smell my own blood,
...
Afternoon is genuine,
pace of it’s dullness
stays like the shroud
anchor to anchor,
...
I shuffled the pack of cards
fifty four times,
each time I picked one
from somewhere in the middle.
...
been to the Alcatraz?
on the way, the weather turned rough
like it wanted to feed me into the bay,
the boat capsized three times
...
In the Kingdom of barks
silence is a invertebrate traveler
slain-wing of a dragon-fly
gripped in dried up sauce,
...
My job is to stand guard
for Goliath-like electric panels
which I hate, they make drone
throw up heat without you knowing it's on you
...
Old man by the sea
he walks the promenade
at Marina
selling eclecticism of snippets,
...
Star Gazers
Where I go for my little grotto evenings
breeze- jungle of towers and windows,
...
Oh my princess,
I am not jealous of you
because you are a princess,
...
I fancy I am Rao Jodha,
there are several kings
at the Mehrangarh fort today,
it's sunday when Rao Jodha rests,
...
Last night I had a peeled-off nightmare
in which seven
lady's bicycles
were parked
...
saranyan bee Biography
Hi, I came to learn English literature by default. Dont ask me questions, these things happen. But the works of great many that dominated the curriculum of the seventies, travelled with me in an unknown manner. Later on, when a a good friend egged me to write, my facny for Myth, Form and Rhyme gave way to Freshness, Simplicity and penchant for repuditaing the popular perceptions in which we fool ourselves. Modern poetry fascinates me, what is modern? Charles Bukowski, Raymond Carver inspire me a geat deal in a specific manner. The simplicity of their writings left me sort of unnerved each time, every time, whenever I read again and again. I differ with them in as much as that I would like to lay less emphasis on the 'place' and 'immediacy'. I thought in general, poems are supposed to have Universal and Eternal presence and language to serve only as much as the ink. What a poem invokes once to some group of people at some point of time, ought to invoke similar emotions to all the persons at all points of time, even if translated. I like to draw for inferance, the simple lines of a Goanese poet (Forgive me I forget his name, this one is translated from a Indian language Konkanese) .... It roughly translates (he tells God of death who has come to take him away) .... 'leave me tonight, O Lord, leave me tonight because tonight my mother has made me fish with cocoanut rice and cahsewnut brew, leave me tonight Let me savour the dish, sleep well and be with you tommorow' Have I said enough?)
The Best Poem Of saranyan bee
Crossing Bridges
There are many bridges in this place
the one I see I shall have to cross,
what if long,
arduous and pebble-some,
winds into fogging shore
like a treacherous column?
uncertainty is a sloth intruder,
plucks my guts
like strings of guttural lyre
out of tune with itself,
I knock with knuckles
the whale of it’s span to be certain,
it speaks the voice of hollow,
though feeds my fingers
with freeze-slaps of green water
whose murmur’s melody in the ear,
many images travel
like a band in passing,
- sting of a clove
- clanking food bowl,
- smoke from a bazooka gun,
- mosquito bites in the woods
- piling noise when my homestead
was built amidst rubbles;
abiding, far abiding
is the bloom of her face
in the valley of apparitions:
I speak my mind,
'you are no longer a virgin
my princess,
for in my dreams
there's no law that governs
men of fetters’
though I run
a fugitive is in every head,
unharnessed gallops
in which links
from one world to another
are drugged deliberation,
Silence! Indian pond-heron
roosts on the truss
like a flash,
a way of telling me the bridge is safe
so long I have wings
white and blind.
Saranyan BV © December 2011
Mumbai
saranyan bee Comments
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