Literary Yard

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‘Tomb of unburied days’ and other poems by R.K.Singh

By: R.K.Singh


While volcanoes rehearse to show their teeth
lovers shouting from the well of the house
wave broken condoms rather than broken trust

conflate dissent on self-erasing slates
and prove worse than the old oxen
long following circuitous ways

billowing opposition, discalced defenders

they all assert superior dishonesty
sell cheap what is most dear or make
offences of new affections

I carry the tomb of unburied days



Widening cracks, leaking roofs
choked drains in the courtyard
water logging and myriad
such small things make rains a pain

there’s no romance in rainbow
I can’t shape colours of morning
morning shapes my colour:

I’m the victim of my views
that shape my head each day
realities and yoga conspire

drinks and pills deride from clothesline
flowers and trees speak in grey
compost of years oozes no wisdom

whatever the poetry, it stinks
idols on the beasts and cattle
overload the carriage
I can’t deliver the burden

prostrate and worship
touch the feet, foolishness
makes me small, frustrate
sitting on the ground
in the dust, degrade

it’s long fog, with blurred sight
virtually blind, no seer
no revelations



I hate to end up
an anonymous failure
repeating the routine
exploring the others
reviewing what is not

there should be time for me too
to turn the leaves between orgasms
the fleeting moments of poems
and the whole lot of deaths



a drop embedded
in the half-opened bud—
winter morning

winter rain
bends the roses low—
lumber pain

cleaning the remains
of burnt out earthen lamps—
dusky temple yard

a night wolf
chomps the leftovers—
teeth in moon

after the discourse
beer and biryani in lunch—
happy drinksgiving

her leaning head
from night to deathless light—

a touch of fire
in inner privacies:
the will to live

year’s first snowfall
prediction of early spring—
sakura buds

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