IMAGE OF EARTH AND QUILL

Guest Poet Arjun Purkayastha



63. ADMIRATION

The cawing
And the cooing
Fill the emptiness
Of the silence
At regular intervals
A gentle breeze
Caresses the leaves
Pitter patter
The drizzle
Meets the earth
The gray sky
Behind
The shedding tree
Shows hints
Of blue
A lone bird
Glides across
Surveying
All below
A lone flower
Glimmers
Its twinkle
In a raindrop
On its face
The bird swoops down
To admire
The flower
Briefly
But gets mesmerised
And stares

(September 23, 1998)

64. BLIND

A blind girl
Comes down the path
Her steps
Careful
And calculated
She smiles
As she feels
A presence
Through sounds
And moves
Towards it
She wants to run
But knows she canít
So she walks faster
But soon
Begins to falter
A silent boy
Looks on
But doesnít get up
To help
But he doesnít
Need to
She carries on
Guided by the sound
Away from him
He stares at her
Till she is out of sight
And looks down again

(September 23, 1998)

65. UNCERTAIN

A haze
Settles down
Sunlight permeates
Rays dance
To the tune
Of the breeze
Which moves the haze
Hands in my pockets
I breathe in
The freshness
And close my eyes
The sweet smell
Of the first light
Goes through my soul
Refreshing it
I walk down the path
Aimless
Moving along
Awed
Knowing that
One day
I may
Never experience it again

(September 24, 1998)




Arjun Purkayastha's Questions:

I have just finished writing a book of 67 poems called "Searching" which is due to be published soon. These are† the poems towards the ending of the book. They are in the exact same sequence as they are going to be in the book. I would like critical appraisals of the work as what I am writing is very experimental and new. Comments on any aspect of the poems are welcome. I am interested in what you think about the style of the work and the message it gets across. What kind of an appeal does it have? What strikes the reader foremost about the poems/poetry? And finally, do you think it has any commercial value?


Correspond with Arjun Purkayastha at
arjun.purkayastha@usa.net
with your ideas about this poem.



The Albany Poetry Workshop