Wednesday, July 1, 2020



The Deserted Streets, COVID-19

The emptiness of the streets,
the lack of sound,
surreal; so is COVID-19;

the city is a Chaplin film now
only solitude is loudly audible
as a background score, a feature

never experienced earlier for so long
21 days and still counting,

the wheels have stopped
the doors are locked
toxic fumes are not daily reality

oxygen levels are high
no blasts from the vehicles
to startle the strays or pedestrians

only--deep stillness, universal, continual;

Are we back in the pre-industrial times
once ardently desired by the neo-Romantics?

A City Of Birds Only

The birds take over
No, not talking of a Hitchcockian frame

but in real-time, a real megapolis.

The birds are flying in the clean air
the sky is clear

pigeons, crows, parrots, sparrows
in flocks, cruise around in the space
or hop on the pavements, most
happily, un-afraid of the creatures that walk on two feet;

the new claimants,
the avian friends have, finally, taken
over the city
from the humans, in an ironic
reversal of rights!

Silence, Primeval, Other-Worldly

Silence is so profound
You can hear the leaves whisper
the wind, whistling in your ear

the city has become a vertical monastery
the manic roads are quiet, an extended garage,

trees remain clean as if washed by the early rains,
no pollution of any kind,

eyes no longer sting
or air pricks;

the ears are not regularly assaulted,
it is the corona-curfew
air-quality has improved.

I contemplate.

Meditate from the balcony
on the altered urbanscape
and diminished hedonism

and the paradox of plague
that confines and liberates
fragile human beings!

Sky, Scrubbed Clean

The sky is blue, after years
the air pure;

At night
the stars are visible
and a moon
this summer night
so enchanting!

The divine calls from those heights
new vistas open up
before the tired eyes
ears are unplugged
mind still---

i become a Zen monk
in that surprising instant
of change within,

getting connected to the celestial things that were there
before and will remain, after me.


SUNIL SHARMA, a senior academic and author-critic-poet--freelance journalist, is from suburban Mumbai, India. He has published 22 books so far, some solo and some joint, on prose, poetry and criticism. He edits the monthly, bilingual Setu.

1 comment :

  1. CONGRATS, Sunil Sharma ji. Evocative poems that turn pages of our current pandemic apocalypse.