Syndic No. 37 ~ 10th Anniversary Special Issue Cover
Syndic Literary Journal

Syndic No.37 ~ Asha Viswas

3 Short Poems

By Varnasi Poet Asha Viswas

A  LAMENT FOR THE RIVER

The intermittent sibilance of

The insomniac  sea brooding over the

 Translucence of the morning

Its velvet touch still fresh in his mouth.

 

 The waves swiftly arrive and the sea

Embraces them in his anguished arms

while the night groans buried in a

shipwreck of shadows of the dead.

 

 When the river rushed and drowned in the sea

There was no trace of her body, only

 Her desires still float, like spilled blood,

 On the barren sand without any walls.

 

SO  MANY LYNCHINGS

Long back, from the terrace of our house

I had seen a pig being killed by a mob-

a close human circle with spears in their hands,

took turns to poke the animal. The screams

of the wounded creature have left

their traces on my mind , heart and soul.

 

I had seen a mob lynching of a nameless thief

In a market place in Nigeria

The thief was beaten and burnt alive by the shopkeepers.

 The police did arrive but too late.

I remember my British friend and I just exclaimed

“ uncivilized country”, “ barbaric people”

 

What do I call my own country people now ?

The imagined cries , panic of the victims

make me a silent citizen

In this inhuman forest of the night.

of the wounded creature have left

their traces on my mind , heart and soul.

 

I had seen a mob lynching of a nameless thief

In a market place in Nigeria

The thief was beaten and burnt alive by the shopkeepers.

 The police did arrive but too late.

I remember my British friend and I just exclaimed

“ uncivilized country”, “ barbaric people”

 

What do I call my own country people now ?

The imagined cries , panic of the victims

make me a silent citizen

In this inhuman forest of the night.

 

THE BEGGAR GIRL

I look into her eyes , troubling me,

like a question mark.

The  red in them is a mythical sea

full of drunken fish pursuing the stars.

Or is it the red of carnations

blooming in a thorn bird’s heart?

The sunlight dances, like rainbow , in her eyes

which speak in some shade of green

You fail to describe. It is close

to  a dark storm with blue rain.

The pressure for description

is memory lurking from pain.

I take courage

and swim across the eyes .

 

 

Compiled/Published by LeRoy Chatfield
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