Mining R K Singh's archives, with his more than generous permission, Poet-in-Residence has unearthed another piece of poetic wonderment. Indian, yes; and yet it's also somewhat Byronic. (see Byron at 30 - below)
When I Stopped...
If my world couldn't be
what I had thought in my teens
I can't help. I was
dependent on my father
a self-made man against
the currents I couldn't read
the sky and its stronghold
the prints of Ganga's sand
have faded like the rainbow
in a spray of years
that prick like pebbles
now the caries, cavities
cyst and myopia haunt
and sexual anxieties
disturb sleep and dreamless nights
the hairs on my balding head
mirror the laughter
I have ceased to take note of
I have ceased to peel
the ugly shapes, the cunning
and treacherous I work with
resent my identity
and the future I fail
spinning influences
yet I'm sure when I stopped
it won't be all that bad:
my vision would still be good
I would still smell fresh air
c) R K Singh 2005
visit http://rksingh.blogspot.com for details of R K Singh's poetry publications and to read more of his poems and haiku.
Thanks Gwilym for selecting this poem for use on your site. You have been very kind to me.
ReplyDeleteR K
any thanks is due from me
ReplyDeletei take pleasure and delight in selecting and publishing interesting and thoughful poetry
Almost all my published collections are available on my blogs and you are welcome to choose the poems that appeal to you. I think you will enjoy the variety of form and content in my poetry.
ReplyDeleteAll the best
R K