Friday 1 December 2017

Poem by Jaykumar Buddhdev

art and talents

with twenty and nine candles
here i am burying them
sometimes burning too
both with a practiced quietness
this art not learnt
but ‘tis a taste acquired
and a habit born on
empty dinner tables with
unworn rings - unclaimed lips
beds unshared and peerless nights
now no more them i see
opened or closed eyes
yet flashes of fancy
emerge rise and sink
staying momentarily but
the seeds of this art
sown slow and sudden
at ten and eight
just before adding ‘nother
to the tally of years
this bilious activity grew
gradually ‘twas nurtured
making them gangrenous too
seeming slightly simple to you
maybe ‘tis too
sans dancing and chanting
‘round their remains with
a wooden stake through
for even cold and buried
or burnt and bloody
they became someone new
with these talents
and hands sanguinary
glistening eyes
i am ready
with a cleaver
and such arts
should you begin

to seem enticing too

This poem has been published in the international journal The Criterion (Vol 8, Issue IV)