We saw her...almost apocalyptic, against the blue spring sky!
Gnarled and pregnant with yellow,
Are those flowers? I wonder, dazed by the mustard glow.
Maybe they are, my friend tells me.
Maybe they aren't, I reply.
Maybe, they are all the midday dreams that dissolve into an uneventful chai-time evening.
Maybe they are a confused blend, of all the blues of the sky and the greens of the land...
Are they really?
Look close...they have petals...so they are flowers after all...so much for your imagination!
But are they? Maybe they are a thousand pretty pig-tailed village belles, using the petals as a smart substitute for a purdah!
Maybe they are all the Prufrockian desicions, indecisions and coffee-spoon measurements, rolled into one!
OH STOP IT!!! They are just flowers...
Nothing big, nothing so galactic...but are they really?
Flowers with petals, stems and nectar? As prosaic as zoology?
I have strong doubts!
They are not just flowers...
They are the lights of a thousand silver glow worms,
They are the warm smiles of a hundred little children!
They are the ultimate colours of Basanta, and Bolpur...as we saw it!
Gnarled and pregnant with yellow,
Are those flowers? I wonder, dazed by the mustard glow.
Maybe they are, my friend tells me.
Maybe they aren't, I reply.
Maybe, they are all the midday dreams that dissolve into an uneventful chai-time evening.
Maybe they are a confused blend, of all the blues of the sky and the greens of the land...
Are they really?
Look close...they have petals...so they are flowers after all...so much for your imagination!
But are they? Maybe they are a thousand pretty pig-tailed village belles, using the petals as a smart substitute for a purdah!
Maybe they are all the Prufrockian desicions, indecisions and coffee-spoon measurements, rolled into one!
OH STOP IT!!! They are just flowers...
Nothing big, nothing so galactic...but are they really?
Flowers with petals, stems and nectar? As prosaic as zoology?
I have strong doubts!
They are not just flowers...
They are the lights of a thousand silver glow worms,
They are the warm smiles of a hundred little children!
They are the ultimate colours of Basanta, and Bolpur...as we saw it!
3 comments:
Well....That one tree haunts me over and over again...and I know it haunts you too...one of the best memories of the special friendship we share...Feel nostalgic all over again...take a peek at my blog...maybe it will give you a little peace...and of course let me know...write more and write well...
hmm, u sure got a wonderful sense of imagination.
this is probably my favorite i poked my eyes at.
very Kerouac-like : spontaneous prose.
good stuff.
great photos too
did you take them?
props,
g.
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