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Starry night or sorry Chennaite

The times twist and rise like rare tornadoes 
Timelines elsewhere just turn into homilies
And the stars-turned-hearts are  bleeding blues
The happenstance-moon for once is not made
of light to light up our home CFL’s
The rain gods do not drop water bottles
to the marooned; or the air, mantras, to reverse
Rigor mortis. The sky, hawker of visuals,
implores blind pathways to unchoke themselves.
I bide time in my twelfth floor Himalayas.
Kedar’s water demons come calling,
metamorphosed into meteorology,
dunking Chennai’s life in tears where float bloated
the arid wits of the metro’s whirlpool gods.

Note: Based on a Van Gogh painting 'Starry night', which struck a chord in me during the  Chennai floods of 2015.


Copyright © S.Jagathsimhan Nair | Year Posted 2017

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