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Tuesday, January 7, 2025

New Poems, Photographs & Art by Kushal Poddar



News From The Grey Valley 

 

His children try to solve 

the jigsaw puzzle of a body cremated. 

Kin stand around as if the young ones are 

an old valley and they are tall buildings, 

windows all shut. They form 

a sacred circle for them.

 

Far from here the chamber sizzles,

busy, delivering.





Sanity

 

My daughter dances on the bed.

The music is older than me. I heard

it before. I lift her, settle her 

on the floor. Our grey cat trades 

the places. I ask my father

if he likes it here now. He never liked 

his own house when he lived. 

Please let me talk aloud, Sanity.

Dead ones talk little. I have to

talk for two. My daughter begins giggling.

I join her. The cat jumps off the bed

and leaves, the corpse of Reason

dangling from its maws.





Dusk's Cube

 

A sudden crow, 

my shadow on its beak,

hauls the room away 

from me.

 

Now I 

stand in the year's back alley.

I say, 'I don't smoke," 

to a junkie, and then

we, together with silence,

saunter to the stream, pink and grey 

in this Sun.





Ensue

 

On the highway of the wind

an avalanche of halcyon void

stalls the traffic of the leaves.

 

They wait for the news from the sea,

hundreds of miles away. They wait

for the sky to begin an operation.

The clouds hold back the cold.

The trees shadow the valley's hem.

 

A monk chimes the bells of a monastery.

The ripples reverberate in the dark.

The lights can be seen from the summit.

One of the leaves turns, "Did you read 

the leaflet? A new year began today."





Return

 

One of the leaves turns, "Didn't 

a year begin today?" Thus it institutes;

I jog midst the fog of a sweeper's

handwork. The sweeper gathers 

all the beer bottles and cans he can.

The recycle man gives him enough for one.

One down, his evening becomes

one long call in loop. His girl adjusts

her clothes in the end, "When will 

you return? The village has changed."

His silence whistles; the sea of the leaves

rustles; the ships of the buildings sail far.




                                                    (click on photos & artwork to enlarge)


Kushan Poddar the author of  'A White Cane For The Blind Lane' and 'How To Burn Memories Using a Pocket Torch' has ten books to his credit. He is a journalist, father of a four-year-old, illustrator, and an editor. His works have been translated into twelve languages and published across the globe.