Murari Sinha Poet Prose Poetry

The Time That Is Moving Round Me Now 1 - 3

1
some are going ahead
some are going back 

having my fingers wielded 
on an old type-writer
i’m thinking what should i do 

a pretty long time passed away
since the village alphabet 
had bade me farewell 

in my recent thinking 
there is a severe harikiri 

the song 
that i have sung in a deep forest 
in front of the wild flowers 

now when i am sitting  
under the ceiling-fan 
of the heaven 

i can see that both 
the lyric and the tune of the song 
have vanished


 2
this morning 
i’ve woke up little earlier 
to observe the dawn 

the flags of my behaviour 
are posted in the grass-land 
around me 

no one should take them 
as the handkerchiefs of 
a demon 

a group of people is harvesting 
the paddy of the spring-season 

i too join them to remember 
the water-game of the ducks 

i’m speaking less 
or keeping mum 

but there remains so many topics 
to be discussed 

the battle of the ballots… 
the global recession… 
the climate-change…
the terrorism…
the joint-force…
 

 3
i’ve made a thorough discussion 
with myself 

so many arguments which lead to 
even so much fighting 

i see that there has been not 
much lamentation or brooding  
not much grief or sorrow 
not much tension or anxiety 
of my own 

all the time 
surrounding me only is a grey 
non-attachment 
and a joy sans any emotion 

then i think 
if the rose can forget its sorrow and distress 
why should I remember them 
with so much pain and pancreatic problems

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