Saw a missed call
a while ago.
Please do not call.
You bug me.
What is it this time-?
A yawn in my face,
a slurred declaration
you are sleepy,
might drop dead
right away?
Or a ploy
you are busy
this week and the next
with a transatlantic traveler
or a reveler from your past.
Pray , do not call.
Your pathetic, pesky ways
don’t sell.
You call
not to connect
but to leave me
like a dragged pond
disrupting
that comforting
monotones,
monochromatic hues
of my everyday life
edged with
the lacings of wishful
what-might-have-beens.
You call
to swipe at
a seeming sense
of contentment
I have cultivated
raising orchids
tending blue and red
water lilies
pink and white lotuses
and a lawn saved
from weeds, termites
and snails on
silver trails.
SINGULAR WISDOM
There were days
I strove to stand tall
when you lined up
not just you yourself,
but a giant combo
of Schopenhauer, Kierkegaard,
Krishnamurthy,
Nietzsche, Freud and Osho.
I swore to myself,
no more would I
waste my gutsy,
gusty poetic breath
on you.
But like a horse
to its stable I always returned.
I sought
not a collective concoction
of any isms spanning centuries
but a singular one
in the immediate present-
your own-
pitted against mine.
No definitions,
equations, plus, minus
centered in nothingness.
No nihililistc, existential rattle
or desireless, body prattle.
Give me a singular wisdom
centered in the heart,
on the far side of reason.
WANTED …
A vibrant soul
willing to shed
his shrill mobile
and gross ring tone
of a Mumbai masala movie
to amble along the horizon
to snare the winds in my hair
drink in
in silence
a cocktail or mocktail
of a liquid orange sunset
with whipped up saffron skies…
A compassionate one
who opts to sit
with his back
to the crowd, the street
in a restaurant
to read my lips.
my thoughts…
A passionate being
-left handed please
to form that perfect
left-right co-ordinates-
who, whatever time of day or night,
mobile switched off and tossed away,
tunes into my wave length
to explore in no haste
the length and breadth of me,
my limbs,
my fantasies…
Bionote
Neerada Suresh has published two volumes of poetry-Bonsais and Reeds In the Wind (DC Books) and is currently working on her third volume of poetry. She has read poetry at the Female Eye Poetry Festival at West Yorkshire UK, Ishmir, Turkey, The American Centre at New Delhi, The Delhi Poetree, Caferratti at Mumbai and other invited venues. She has received many awards for her poetry and is also a recipient of the President’s National Award for Teachers.
