Sentinel Poetry (Online) #58 ISSN 1479-425X

THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF POETRY & GRAPHICS...since December 2002

Frontpage  Past Issues  Submissions  Home

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

    Poetry

 

 

Ashok Niyogi

 

Now, Let Me See

 

bequeath me

your latest pair of spectacles

 

because I saw your trees

walk about without eyes

in a forest of wind

I heard you whisper platitudes

into a night of impotent passion

I felt age beginning to tug

at the coldness of your unlit pipe

 

we could have climbed

our hill more often

even then

when I was small

 

I understood

the sadness

of your success

 

I always had your measure

by the thickness

of your spectacle frames

 

Here and There

 

what after all is age

for us from the golden age

in these amorphous times

when knotted is the fulcrum

on which the polecat rests

which metro-sexual ladybirds

climb to lay their atomic eggs

 

let large butterflies hatch

from my steel-grey moustache

and snow on hoary mountains

shatter with a lot of nonsense

 

let rivers climb

into the coffins of clouds

and love erupt

from volcanoes in tourist resorts

 

let touts

take us through life by the hand

let wizards in disposable nappies

wave their magic wands

 

Mantra with a Question Mark

 

the earth the sky

and Mother Teresa

Jack the Ripper

virtual and real worlds

and all else in between

is lit up with your immanence

even as all suns are

triggered by your will

you play

 

as you create

even while you meditate

you are the lord and protector

of all that is manifest

yet or never to be manifested

all dissolves into you

the end-game

 

in that you

I seek refuge

even as I ride

to the crest of a wave

and zigzag down

through laughing sharks

that are also bald vultures

it hurts and blood flows

even as I laugh

 

I will re-enter your womb

later

right now I suckle at your chest

what then is eternal

how do you define rest

where does your falcon nest

 

 

Once More

 

there are warts and pimples

where the sculptor

did not evenly spread his clay

I see even blackheads

because you were put out in the open

before the final coat of paint

lots of sags and wrinkles

this sporadic August sun has

given you with its uneven bake

 

I would have recommended

Oil of Olay

had you even been aliveÖ.

 

Ö.no wonder this life

that you have prescribed

is so mortally flawed

 

by promises

made me

and then not kept

I could have wept

 

now cosmetics will not do

letís erase

from foundation

from base

letís remake

 

 

Uphill

 

1

 

as the doppelganger leads

oceans will part

to reveal garden chairs

on desert land

forests will be ploughed

into young green paddy fields

rivers will run horse races

at premeditated speeds

mountains will be whittled away

into assorted prayer beads

 

some social drinking

a little amiable party dance

while planning clandestine romance

 

on a conducted tour to France

 

2

 

of ash wood was his lance

the fool was felled

in a joust with chance

on the straight and narrow

 

these are furrows

made by a wheelbarrow

through teeming ant-hills

and carcasses of skunk

 

his doppelganger strides true

but who will drive you drunk

through the twists and turns

on the road uphill

 

 

 

Ashok Niyogi

 

 

 

Previous articles

Poems by Elizabeth K. Switaj

Poems by Meghan Casey

Poems by Jumoke Verissimo

Poems by Munayem Mayenin

The Warrior-Poet

The Poetry in the Pity

 

 

Frontpage l Previous Page l Next Page

Top of page

 

 

Last updated on 01/10/07 Site copyright Sentinel Poetry Movement. Magazine design & layout by Nnorom Azuonye.

Creative writing & graphics © 2007 The writers and artists. All rights reserved.


Readers since October 1, 2007