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Adri Dew Poem
Beside the old chapel of Berhampur
A shadow of man
Residual on the lonely roads,
Always walked in circles
After 3’o clock at night.
One crossing to another,
He moved with no hurry.
Like a pendulum of his world,
He collected time and stones
In his empty pockets!
I could see him getting heavier
while he thinned,
Walking through the racing cars
at night
Beneath the yellow street lights
He lived from corners to corners
And in the shadows of closed shops
And perhaps on one of my scarred diary pages
Abstractly,
As if he had no face,
No name.
These men of torn cloths and blackened feet
Do not have names,
Only residues they leave behind,
On the corners where they sleep
Stories spilling out of the pocket through a large hole
And dreams vaporizing from his memory
While he slept
In broad daylight
with the shadows of the old chapel of Berhampur
Berhampur is a small town in India
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
Jails we weave in hues of red rust
All our yarns are strong and just
Croons of threads sing on a
Quilt, "A song of trust!"
Urged the wefts,'we
Are like Silk,
Roped for
dust!
8th October 2015
Jacquard: a fabric made on a loom fitted with a jacquard, with an intricate variegated pattern
Weft: In weaving, the weft is the term for the thread or yarn which is drawn through the warp yarns to create cloth. Warp is the lengthwise or longitudinal thread in a roll, while weft is the transverse thread.
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
A blood’s cry dulled eerily from ghosts,
Had its jarred kisses like melancholia noon on purpled quab,
Righteous sanity to undone vain whirlwind,
xylophoning, yet zephyr.
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
Zeusophobia yielded xenophobes,
Wherein violence unleashed
Tear-soaked romanticists,
Quiver painfully? Or nervously moan!
Love killed justice;
In holy Godless Fate.
Entitled dreams collected breathes alone.....
Zeusophobia: fear of God
Xenophobes: Those who are afraid of strangers
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
The long gone peace from my Earth ached to be his -
The black soul to seethe from vampires’ kiss.
Lives mucked,but,yet to build rage!
Almost a closed cage,
In his mind,
Age.
Like a kind-
Narration of Sage,
He reversed diary page!
Today his keen future seemed to cease,
The long gone peace from my Earth ached to be his.......
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
We spent days of two thousand fifty five
Like noisy buzzers of poorly formed beehive
You built me a storm out of the star’s light
When I was asleep after our everyday fight
I heard you in my dreams,still trying to thrive
Perhaps, it’s you who make the last fifty five
After the two thousand days that we survive
We died too,again and again on our sullen arms
Where we are born again too
We pinch and pick, as our souls too naive
To keep us from dying again or being alive
I do not know how seven years were right
But on the two thousand fifty sixth night
We realized It is only us that we deprive
If we are not born again
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
Somewhere deeper inside a deep hole
They celebrate Halloween silently
In the form of a torn Sari, scarred faces
And the scalded hands of a beggar with half empty cup
Ghastly mouths eat their pumpkin raw without a candy by the road
As the dark rejoice of those hearts
Are lined with the sound of coins
That is loved more than
The hollow clink of silver glasses
Still,
As the candles are blown out
The howling ghosts retreat back to their caves at dawn
And perhaps one audacious son of a beggar is allowed to dream of a forbidden closet
Which will have all the black dresses and suave evening masks!
His Halloween attire, for the other side of the world.
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
....Subtle and slow, moon breeze cools, some lukewarm realms.
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5/12/2015
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
One piece of bread,
I dip it in the salty soup
And bring it to my mouth
Eat I say to myself
Eat
For those who jumped out of the ship
One more piece in the soup
Eat for those who did not
A bite of the sweet corn
For my wife
And son
Who will wait forever
For a dead captain
To come home
One little sip of the soup
And There is water till my knee.
Unhurried and steady
The sea gives me time
to finish my meal
I take the last sip of the soup
As my ship sinks
With the dead crew
And a vain captain.
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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Adri Dew Poem
Alone beside calm diary edge
Faraway gardens heard
Icy Jonquils kissed loneliness!
My necklace of pearls quivered...
Rusted sun-rays to unlove Violets,
When Xeronema yearns zenith..
Copyright © Adri Dew | Year Posted 2015
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