Kites over the sad lake

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on March 24, 2010 0 Comments

 

These are two poems dedicated to brother Robert who send me the picture and inspire me write these two.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday by the sadness


They were eight and a dog.

The kites sailed beyond where

their fence started. Beyond

where their fathers had gone

with promises to come

back home sooner than wind

fell and kites were trapped in

the branches. They were eight

and a dog.

And a dog

who could smell and sniff dirt,

knew the splendor closely.

A lake rippled nearby.

Mothers told them, it was

the lake of sadness one

had to taste now and then.

 

©2010, Kushal Poddar(reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)


Kite, a chrome kite


She let her fingers unwound;

the string slackened; winds took charge.

The kite tasted freedom. Crows,

clouds paved for it. A tree

was waiting like a widow,

vague but sprawled. The kite flew off.


I’ll return. With my son and

together we shall find you,

a chrome kite, a springtime kite.


She returns with me this spring.

I can walk like a toddler

and ignore the rest of world

for a lily on the pond.

She points out the plane where her

brother once tumbled; all laughed

but he is handicapped since.

She points out the sadness and

the laughter. They created her.

 

They created her tone, her skin,

her structure, her inside, her

soul, her home. I can walk like

a toddler though all these and

ignore, blissfully, the changes.

The dead pond, the new town,

the homeless and the beggars.

 

We search for the kite, the chrome

kite which once tasted freedom.

We search the trees, the discs

and the antennae. No kite.


You cannot see it, my son.

The world is riding on it.


©2010, Kushal Poddar(reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)

About the Author ()

loves to write and read, dies to have your friendship.Here is my short bio:Kushal Poddar (1977- ) resides in the city of Kolkata, in the state of West Bengal, India. He began writing poems at the age of six in his vernacular Bengali. He begins pr

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