Blue Crayon River: Lakshmi Arya
The Empty Swing that Creaks at Night
as a guest to your memories,
i often lingered on
a darkening road
careful not to step on the grass.
Invited to watch through a
bright square window
a table set for three
how often I wonder
about her that I am not
as she flits past the square.
does she lie beside you
between evening meal and daughter’s mornings
in a baggy nightgown
features sleeping. blanched
by grey square light
as the dusk of the tired years falls about
you and her.
while I lie awake
like the empty swing
that creaks at night
or the breeze that sighs
amid the remembering laughter
of my family when
they gather—
uncles, aunts, one less—
under the afternoon trees
of the Vaidika Dharma Sahaya Sabhe
after
thirteen days have passed.
Come
come
in a time that is not like this
come with the dusk
of smoking huts and darkening tinkle
of women’s bangles
cheap glass green
and their anklets of stars
come like the beginning of winter
crack a fallen twig underfoot
suspend mist-like
over damp leaves on
these greying roads
reminisce
about younger dusks lost
come
jasmine-drenched
like the summer breeze
exhaling intoxicated
at day’s end
as I walk home
parched.
Blue Crayon River
The blue crayon river
always flowed between two
same-height brown peaks
balancing sunrise above,
untoppled huts below
on to the edge of a white page
It was
twenty years later
through nights of mountains’ lichen-breath
when I learnt to be a bride
while the river roared below my window
that I saw
that it was white-blind rage
forcing its way in darkness
splitting virgin rocks
sated with debris and brown
or green as one went higher
higher into mountains
swerve-left, swerve-right
turn one-eighty-degrees
on a narrow wet road
eyes slipping over water and glass pane
losing grip over brown edges
until I saw
a merry day-time bonfire around rocks
that we had tripped over yesterday
you and I, eyes shaded, hands held,
where villagers now sat in bunches
burning
watching
until I saw
the white and orange sheets
and the white foam thereafter
was always flecked grey with ash
I saw that the river
hurtled rocks across dizzy roads
stopping tourists’ cars from seeing snow
while the locals picked their way
unheeding
or froze mid-fall, silver,
stranded mid-air
like a dying gasp
until it saw the end of a white page
My grandmother when she was ninety
lay on a bedsheet with a tear
all day abusing the walls
while they brought in the coffee
and wondered why.
Very well written. Especially, all of them 🙂
Thanks!
These are beautiful poems Lakshmi. I loved the first lines of the ‘Empty swing’ .
My favorite is the second poem and specifically these lines :
“come
jasmine-drenched
like the summer breeze
exhaling intoxicated
at day’s end
as I walk home
parched.”
I loved the last part of ‘Blue Crayon River’ :
“My grandmother when she was ninety
lay on a bedsheet with a tear
all day abusing the walls
while they brought in the coffee
and wondered why.”
Thank you for these and please keep writing.
Dear Lakshmi,
you made my day! loved them
Thanks so much…
They are hauntingly beautiful, they stay on and echo in your mind with new meanings.
Thanks, Tanikadi! How nice to have you post here. Pratilipi is an excellent journal. Do read when you have time.
Serene and Gayatri, thanks so much.
Dear Laxmi,
I really enjoyed reading your poems…they are very “visual” and “melodious”. I especially liked the first one–” The empty swing that creaks at night”…wonderful visualization and concept!!
Thank you:-)
Thanks for reading.
lovely ones Laksh!
the way you weave words is simply ethereal!! Reminds me of Amitav Ghosh, i know he is not your fav ones but still 🙂
the metaphors are just perfect…sometimes surreal…
words…the way they create a world…
their own, and then they own you.. u own them..
together u ..two.. create.. ur world!! 🙂
dwari
mam nice readings
Thank you, Himanshu! Better than the course readings, I hope 🙂
Dwari…thanks!
after receiving the notice from jane savory read your poems. long time since read such talented writing from anyone I know/have known personally.
p S I do not open poem or any other similar sites so if you shld want towrite in your xmas greetings it wld have to be on email
Thank you, Professor. This means a lot to me. I did write to you, on email. I hope you saw my letter.
Thank you for these lovely poems. There is so much violence and beauty in the lines:
it was white-blind rage
forcing its way in darkness
splitting virgin rocks
Ma’am, your poems are very beautiful and violent. I liked these lines:
it was white-blind rage
forcing its way in darkness
splitting virgin rocks
Thank you
Thanks, Poonam.
Ma’am these are nice literary works!
Anxiously waiting for your book now… 🙂
Jagat, thanks for the encouragement… The book, it will take as much out of me as the poems did!
Wonderful ! I can feel it.. In midst of the life sounds so “Alive”.. living it fresh in my mind, to be into it “Soon” … 🙂
Wish were together, for this .. hmmmmmm….
“Lebo lebo” !
Loved “Blue Crayon River” ..
Beautiful Lakshmi!
Thank you, Latika!