Missing people
In a busy street we find,
Things missing people
Things the street sweepers
Reverently reject.
And so they sit and stare the whole day,
The things without people,
Sitting looking at people.
And so strange,
These things without people,
How they place themselves in strange places
In strange ways for people.
Slippers in the middle of the road.
Shoes on footpaths.
A sock in a drain.
Children’s shoes.
Men’s shoes.
Women’s shoes.
Shirts. Shawls. Sweaters. Scarves.
Strange things standing out in the way,
Thrash they all say,
Garbage not more,
But the dark dawn sweeper hesitates,
And leaves it for perplexed day light public.
Something forgotten,
Something worn,
Something remaining forlorn,
The city noise does not drown out,
No crashing cars or cussing walker dampen,
Marks on dust gathering sun burnt rain wet things without people.
So I walk late night or early
morning thinking,
Who leaves shoes socks shirts and shawls?
In the road, in the street or, worse, folded neatly by a lake?
Who does that?
I think. I walk. I look.
And then I see,
An empty road,
A quiet street,
No lights. No noise.
Something soft, something clear,
Behind a corner somewhere.
And so I take off my shoes,
Place them reverently on the road,
And walk quietly
Quietly. Quietly…
Joshua Rynjah
A syrupy feeling
Made me tremble and excited abruptly.
Was the day really green… but not red…
May be… come to me
To accomplish my paper-heart.
As was still blank and bare.
Everything was unusual
Nevertheless, typical…
Thrilling heart competent too,
Perceiving words,
Designation that gifting me…
Angry unlike others….
Pleasant, happy and energetic
But why ignorant…
The heart touching sweetened green days…were nothing yet everything.
Was better than now.
Now seems to achieve everything
But nothing makes me troublesome
Of losing those days.
Of missing that syrupy feeling.
Mamu Rajkhowa
Oh! Amanda
The four walls of my hotel room
Are reverberating with your laughter
Reminding me of a deep sonorous melody
Coming from the gorgeous Elephant Falls;
Your innocent face wearing a mask
Of rare calm and composure
Is radiating inner peace, the days of
incessant agonies have gone by;
A fighter in you have
Sustained the darkest hours
Of living in penury, losing
Your parents one by one at the
Age of playing with Barbie dolls, and
Grappling with acute run of tuberculosis
With rarest of courage
And uncommon perseverance;
Rainy season has set in and
The spattering of rainfall
Seems never ending, countless
Droplets have cast a transparent net
Over the lofty mountains,
All your tears have been wiped away
By the gentle strokes of water from sky
Brushing aside all shades of grey.
Rainbows are in attendance only for you,
Amanda, only for you.
Rakesh Chandra