Monday, March 1, 2021







The Himalayan expanse


Wide and green


I can absorb only a little


The breeze is against me


I can hear it


I can feel it on my face,


On my hands, palms, forehead,


Even inside me


I stretch my arms, my sleeves flutter


It is so soothing, so heavenly!


I have tears in my eyes, I cry


I have left all the burden behind


Let me remain here and not return


There is someone calling me from behind


I refuse to turn


Let me be, for a while, alone.





A quiet pond sits lonely in the sun


There is no one to throw stones


Or disturb her


The dry bushes and trees stand still


A tiny twig, from a fallen tree,


Sticks out from the water


A little bird perched there


Just flew away into the bushes


She returns, sits on a dry branch,


Moves her tail, tilts her head


What is she thinking?!


The bright afternoon sun


Scorches my skin as I watch,


In silence, the little world go by.





Afternoon stillness. The tree outside is shedding leaves. A slow fall. The dry ones, dead, have browned. Where is everyone? If I walk, I’ll crush them. Where have the birds gone?! There is no one in sight. Is this the last hour – the hour of awakening? I watch myself in my bed waiting.




GEETA VARMA is a poet and a writer based in Chennai. She has been a teacher and a freelance journalist for some time. She has recently published a book of poems, ‘To my violin’ and ‘Twilight ours’ along with her husband Shreekumar Varma.

No comments :

Post a Comment