Leader Paradox Time — Kushal Poddar

Landscape With Something Happening Over The Horizon - Gerry Shepherd
Landscape With Something Happening Over The Horizon – Gerry Shepherd

Once The Leader Leaves

The leader has left.
The pennon withers
With the ebbing wind.

Flowers beneath our shoes,
Sandwiches served on paper-plates
So thin that even 
My untrimmed nail
Can slash through their truths,
And I ask where we stand
Now that the words are gone,
And the oration is silent.

My friend munches on.
A dragonfly thins out 
Into the space where our eyes go, 
Seek nothing but find peace.

The Paradox

“Any man’s death diminishes me”- John Donne
In our springtime amble 
We see a dule of peace-birds 
Wash the strip of the sky 
Between two in-between places – 
Their burial ground, and our 
Cremation pier. 

The vesper left some fragrance.
I love it, albeit it makes me sneeze.
“Look,” I show my daughter 
Those shadows that follow us, 
“we are so small to own those.”
She shivers, remembers 
The latest death amongst our kin,
And because she has been 
Watching TV series she imagines 
The glacial metalline trays our niece
Might have slept before they decide
Her flesh can be cremated.

A few feathers swirl en arriére.
Silence is the common ground
We stroll, shaken and sad as only 
Human can be, and yet peaceful,
Perturbed, thinking about our race
Growing and diminishing – a paradox.

Time Has It Hands In The Fire and On The Frost

The bird, I imagine, 
asks how long the bard'll 
go on scrivening 
about those stolen kisses he missed 
as a young man. 

From the street beneath 
my verandah, a vagrant
upturns his palms. Money? 
No, he shows his scald. 
Time has touched 
both the fire and the frost; 
does the man feel 
the veins swelled with the pride 
for his battle marks? 

Almost spring, the bipolar wind
inoculates two minds
I think with, and I think about
the bird of the morning 
and the man without a home,
and those two minds fight
against the starry starry night 
and chasing crows inside.

Time feeds two serpents.
Some rumours of the summer 
lure you to open the curtains.
A flyer flies in. Don't pick up. 
I scream. We didn't discover
any vaccine for belief.

©2021 Kushal Poddar
All rights reserved


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