Tabla Poems - Poems about Tabla

...VI. We are all metric modulations of our former selves—changing time signatures mid-measure, learning to count in odd meters when life refuses to conform to 4/4 expectations fi......

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...These bronze companions Dha-dhin-dhin-dha flows from the soul Through seasoned fingers Tete-kata-gadi-gana Six decades of dance in palms Father's rhythms — Dha-dhin-dhin-dha lives within ......

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...Sri Lal Crows i. I come from nowhere, and I have nowhere to go, I tell the crow perched on a low neem branch beyond the Periyar River. He agrees. He and I are free. We speak the sam......

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...I believed you would come today I filled the pen full with blue ink gold was coming into the grey preparing the ground for the pink you love, I knew, the iambic with the rhythmic sounds of tab......

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...She plays the tabla, Indian drums, a Canadian! "Fanna -Fi" is their name; Qawwal their claim to fame O when you are at a loss ... or down ... hear them sing! Fanna-Fi is the band's name, in well......

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...On a cold night when the starlight whispered into the ears of the alluring hanging oranges looking for the pulsating pores of purple passion in the light and dark of moonlight In that bitin......

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...At Paro of Bhutan I found the clouds Gathering over the snow white peaks Over the summit the deep blue shroud Kept looking on in dazed disbelief If one takes up my fountain pen Or snatches my ......

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...Raga. Sun shifts as fingers on sitar. Ravi Shankar is dead. Old women in dark clothes make it down the road through a tabla of sounding rain We know not sometimes what effects us until it ......

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...Raga. Sun shifts as fingers on sitar. Ravi Shankar is dead. Old women in dark clothes make it down the road through a tabla of sounding rain We know not sometimes what effects us until it ......

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...manifest pentru pace (antipoezie) traim sub tunuri ?i avioane cu armele încarcate cu propriile noastre pacate traim pe timp de pace sau razboi (who cares?... nobody gives a ****!) ma......

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...Writing can be anything, Set down on willing page. Love and loss, Both popular trains of thought. Or better yet the loss of love. Better still is the agony of agony, The awful angst of it all.......

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...This little man, This shake of hair and shoulder life. A smile, a grin on the last improvised beat. This finger wonder, palms retreat with a snap as the santoor speaks This collage, this vo......

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