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Kalyani Bindu Poem
Covering amongst
day’s festivity,
night’s tiny
sparkle –
his eyes,
muttering the
lurk of
a damp,
somber dawn;
the trickling
of hued
droplets fringing
the wavering
green of
dark, deep
wells;
the sweep
of an owl,
cutting past
the daggers
of wind,
the flesh of
my
controlled reflexes.
His day of
Mosaic
intuitions –
my night
of his
absence.
Copyright © Kalyani Bindu | Year Posted 2011
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Kalyani Bindu Poem
Scrolls raked along
the crevices;
limits of a breath
patched, thick.
Chiseled down the
rumbling bark,
brimming loops,
cross road nooks of
trembling passion,
scorching rues.
A crumpled hearth
of perpetual dormancy.
Raw upon the
lisping drones of the
bamboo,
broader than the
clearest black,
an influx- grim, vivid;
cryptic on
morsels of my
slumber, dampened
ears...
Flashes of detached
voices, intuitions;
monotonous as this
tread-
a lurch; different
yet whole.
Copyright © Kalyani Bindu | Year Posted 2010
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Kalyani Bindu Poem
The hearth of
russet swirling
down the red pool,
cascading into the
drenched heath of
silhouetted blue.
Rivulets of brimming
dark curves trotting,
along the spires of
veiled hues.
The sabre palms
brooding in sober
silence.
The groping stream
gazing over the lore
of the vivid sand.
Copyright © Kalyani Bindu | Year Posted 2010
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Kalyani Bindu Poem
The estrangement of
a cruising day,
plodding onto the
dormant senses.
Ancestral musings
strewn with monotonous
contours,
faded into crevices
of streaming melancholy.
Smudged against the
sugary tea,
dripping hair,
soiled feet,
the erroneous space between,
the cuckoo sang
better.
Copyright © Kalyani Bindu | Year Posted 2010
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Kalyani Bindu Poem
A mosaic of
thousand yellowish
shades,
carpetted the
sky of the
theatre,
renovated-
the monotonous
smell of cool, foaming
air
(made and sealed),
black chairs,
wrought;
flashing popcorn
glimmers,
backs etched
by
capacious hearts-
thinking others'
minds,
proclaiming
their
verdicts.
The screen,
now void,
like white wrapping
the dead,
brooding like
lukewarm milk,
would spit
brimming
colours,
shun the
mosaic sky.
Some crazy
dance of a
drunkard
talking
colours.
Copyright © Kalyani Bindu | Year Posted 2011
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Kalyani Bindu Poem
What talks
in
a
plankton’s
wriggle?
Weaving unseen
whirlpools,
pitting puddles
(soaked, a mellow,
afternoon shine)-
lashing and
curling
like
a sleek
blade,
cutting into
rotten green ,
perhaps,
blowing
a bugle-
like
a shriek
lost
in
the chasm.
Copyright © Kalyani Bindu | Year Posted 2011
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