From the Ruins of the Springtime, 2022 | Kushal Poddar

©2022 татьяна чернышова Tatiana Chernyshova
Pexels
From the ruins my offspring
forceps out the burnt remains
of my poem:

"The sunflowers burst in
my mind. They must have warned,
but I tend to ignore the signs.
The shrapnel in the spring zephyr
pierces one or two stray thoughts.

Somewhere, when the explosions hush,
some music bleeds. I can hear."

If there were other staves to this,
future cannot tell now. Blue, green,
yellow and rust choke all possibilities.
My offspring's footsteps clot
when the discoveries end.
Another spring, perhaps one during
a brief period of doves cooing Zen
or perhaps time rides a pale wild horse,
my progeny returns to the tent. 
The campfire glows atomic
amidst the tar of the night.

©2022 Kushal Poddar
All rights reserved


Kushal Poddar…

…is an author and a father, editor of ‘Words Surfacing’, with eight books to his name, the latest being ‘Postmarked Quarantine’. His works have been translated in eleven languages.

Website / Blog Linked

Author:

Be inspired… Be creative… Be peace… Be

Kindly phrased comments welcome here.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.