Jagannath's Nature Poetry


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Poetry based upon actual experiences, not one thought up in the intellectual aridness of a pseudo-thinker. Words as they mean in the specific context of recollected thought or image , not meaning several things at a time but that which re-creates an aura or a haze of an earlier experience

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Nov 26, 2006
What the trees do not realize

The trouble with these old, gnarled trees
Still standing upright in the earth and air
Is that they want to remain homes
To the many homeless evening-birds
Which incessantly chatter to slum kids
Pouring out of their improvised shanties
With tin roofs glistening in the sun
Through old cycle tires and tarpaulin tatters
Kept defensively in place against the wind
By a motley collection of gray stones.
They do not realize even in their death
That our gardener’s three-stone stove
Is waiting impatiently for their dry logs
To arrive in its enormous, crackling fire.

Posted at 08:59 pm by adukuri
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Mar 6, 2006
On the strand at Babughat,Kolkataerunder


On the Babughat the Ganges wore
A splendid necklace studded with images
Of inverted candle lights under the bridge
The flickering flame of the lantern in the boat
Refused to dance to the wind’s death-tune
Near the jetty stood a dark monstrosity
Brooding over unillumined loneliness
Its cavernous stomach ached with
The darkest secrets of the high seas .

Posted at 03:07 am by adukuri
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Feb 24, 2006


My birds are twittering constantly;
Their colors refuse to climb the sky
Amid scattered sounds and sunrays.
My mornings are many-hued skies
Rising from treetops of birdsongs.

Posted at 10:36 pm by adukuri
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Jan 4, 2006
The sun-photographer


It is this luminosity, my dear,
Of the gilded leaves in the sun
The magic eye promptly catches
A silver flicker, a yellow transience.
A palliative to the chemical pain
In variously knotted entrails and
The reddish tinge in eye-whites.

Posted at 07:11 am by adukuri
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Sunrise and flowers


In my nights of waiting
For sunrise and flowers
I look pain in the face.
I wake up bleary-eyed
Trying to catch beach suns
Before they turn white.

Posted at 07:10 am by adukuri
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The flowers spoke nothing
Waiting for indifferent lovers.
Their colours touched the sky.
Their existence was close-ended
Being closely trapped in the sun.
Drinking moon-beams, they want to be
As birds in the higher zones do.

Posted at 07:07 am by adukuri
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The rock


The rock is being cut
Slowly disintegrating
Real existence, ours.
The drill pierces time.
The sky becomes bluer
With nothing between
The blue sky and us.

Posted at 07:06 am by adukuri
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In the recent monsoon
Our rivers felt as if
The mountains had bled
From fresh wounds
Their flesh has gone,
Across the green seas,
To the distant Chinaman
To fill out his bones.

Posted at 07:05 am by adukuri
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The Return of Beauty


Things remained unsaid
Beauty had cried in torrents
Of words bereft of thought
Till the blazing March sun
Beat history's scraggly stones
A midsummer celebration
Ensued with images galore
Beauty returned from the hills.

Posted at 07:04 am by adukuri
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The banyan's shadows played
With yesterday’s leaves
The words were leaves
My shadows played with.

Posted at 07:01 am by adukuri
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