Haiku

Shattering in pieces
Sky overhead
shyly, slyly.


Died and wounded
What a non voilence
Weapon of truth.

Anuradha Sharma

Kolkata: A Still Image (translated from Bangla by the poet- titled Kolkata Ekti Sthir Chitra)

Passing by the hillock of garbage
he lifts the handkerchief mechanically
to his nose-
uneven broken footpath
sharp stone chips hit the ankles
coming out of the newly repaired dishevelled road
resulting from yesterday’s two showers.
The contractor sniggers standing somewhere near-
‘Out of a contract valued two paisa
if one and three quarters are shared
how much is left out of it for the work?
What better way is there to use the stone chips?’
Broken roads overcrowded bus footpaths encroached
Hoodlums and youngsters raising donations-
passing all these by he enters the womb of
the stumbling city to easily cover a long distance
by Metro-Railway: ‘A remarkable system
to be preserved with pride.’
Reaching Park Street, the only road
to show the discipline by the men and police,
he finds a VIP car with red-alert on its head
followed by vehicles galore on its front and aft
speeds with the gun aimed at men
protruding from a corner;
if someone notices, most do not look at.
Courageous leaders- are the people their representatives
or they are of the people?
All around he finds them moving on the roads
with black hairs on their bodies,
he lifts the handkerchief again to his nose.
Walking mechanically through all these passing scenes
with lamenting thoughts and knitted brows
suddenly he halts-
light fragrance of the flowers!
this tree over the head, they too are there
favourites of the city, they too love it
like the conscience of men
with infinite patience
like many statues, reminiscent of the past, standing.

© Aju Mukhopadhyay

Diaspora (loose leaves of November)
Will they carry
her dreams
beyond cradle's caress
the trinkets and
tarnish running
longside the gypsy
in the earth
where she marries
in a sober
revival
postpartum of flower
(on the sweep
of the harvest)
on her frame
and her
dowry
to where
do they go
in their cadence
of color
the avalanche
harkened
this first night
to nowhere
- Michele Rose

My Fate

Surely many concerned have bothered not, sleuth:
Time shall allow all who doubt be shown the truth!

My fate now rests with you, my Lord-
"Shall my suffering continue as has been,
Or shall my faith in You gain reward;
If not, when will my righteous struggle end?"

I present not with You false appearance:
Though I do not gather Your design full,
I question not Your purposive omniscience!
Alas, I defend daily against doubt's pull!

No matter the result, dutiful I shall remain!
If You answer but one prayer I may make-
Grant me consort with my daughters again:
This would make worth of all my heartache!

Maurice Harris, 25 September 2009