“Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy,
And moon-struck madness.”
The day is coming soon.
It is kicking off heavy boots
loosening the jugular knots
uprooting itself from the
and roaring like a jaguar
A trembling pledge tears
A rag cloth will wipe
screeching lines of
chalk that once defined me
No watch on my wrist,
time has played it shots
no malignant obligations,
only vilipended shouts.
Howl my ballistic soul out, let Zozobra burn
pluck green-yellow fruits
from serpentine vines
thunder barefoot on sun-scorched concrete
lie face down till puddles
dissolve the acrid salts
drink the quivering dew till dams threaten to burst
then burst into a
never mind the hush!
drink in cold rivers as if born free
make slurping noises at
toss hair free to stream in
the storm’s fury
lie on the beach with
-a promise leading me to the snake pit
where I truly can be me
unfit for polite society.
The artist stains the walls with passion
People stop to watch him bleed
He blends his thoughts with a mental brush
and dabbles with the colors of his inner swirls.
A streak of anger runs through him
And lo! a red river flows down the page
He recalls a lily bloom amidst calm waters
And there emerges a cool, watery glade .
Sweat of hard work skids off his back
descending in cascading waterfalls
Scars of long lost loves come to life
leaving traces of a broken harp.
Spring beckons him to her floral lap
as wild flowers burst upon his canvas.
A blush of colour, a dab of paint.
his work done as the artist throws
whirlpools of colour into abandoned holes.
filling the blanks which nature forgot
or those smudged by human echoes.
Reena Prasad loves reading, writing, listening to music and photography. Born and brought up in Odisha, with roots in Kerala, and presently settled in Sharjah, she has been writing since early school days. Poetry, for her, is a passion and a way of life.
Her poems have been published in the anthology Change, (Xpress publications), Indian Ruminations and Youth Ki Awaaz.