Kushal Poddar
Hearing
Sometimes she hears them right,
Sometimes the opposite.
I think, Kate, she hears what
Suits her predetermined mind.
As we speak, I hear her
Say, from far behind in
Our one room flat, Rain came.
At last, rain. Kate, you know,
we still have no rain here,
In this side of the stream.
Our mother hears the hushed
Rows and columns of the ants
Scurrying away their eggs
From the harm's way. Because
She hears this, she hears rain,
On our cornices, yard,
Cemented swings.
A native of Kolkata, India, Kushal Poddar (1977) writes poetry, scripts and prose and is published worldwide. He authored “All Our Fictional Dreams,”published in several anthologies in the Continent and in America. The forthcoming book is Kafka Dreamed Of Paprika. Find more at:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kushal-The-Poet/166552613396144.
Hearing
Sometimes she hears them right,
Sometimes the opposite.
I think, Kate, she hears what
Suits her predetermined mind.
As we speak, I hear her
Say, from far behind in
Our one room flat, Rain came.
At last, rain. Kate, you know,
we still have no rain here,
In this side of the stream.
Our mother hears the hushed
Rows and columns of the ants
Scurrying away their eggs
From the harm's way. Because
She hears this, she hears rain,
On our cornices, yard,
Cemented swings.
A native of Kolkata, India, Kushal Poddar (1977) writes poetry, scripts and prose and is published worldwide. He authored “All Our Fictional Dreams,”published in several anthologies in the Continent and in America. The forthcoming book is Kafka Dreamed Of Paprika. Find more at:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kushal-The-Poet/166552613396144.