The Imprisoned Forest

Scratches of my pen
Like prison bars
Hold something down.
Or maybe nothing exists
Beyond what is left.:

A fear grows in me,
As I watch the last line droop
And wither, before the new one begins.

Sometimes I feel like the forest
Forsaken by its animals –
A premonition,
That brings the chainsaws.

~Aniket Alam~

– –
Published by Danse Macabre in their September 2010 editon: La Cour des Miracle

Star Gazing

Maybe some ancient astronomer
stood on a hill
and saw the stars above.
Maybe he wondered at our world,
our universe, and beyond.
And told stories of these wonders
to the children of his clan.

Maybe some ancient lover, star gazing
saw the eyes of her beloved
and remorse may have squeezed out a tear
reflecting the stars and the moon.
A kaleidoscope of memories,
diverting her thoughts back to
the stories of grandfather astronomer.

And maybe mothers told these stories
to their wide eyed wondering children.
As ancient tales and trails turned modern
maybe people still cuddled ‘round fires.
Talking about devils, gods and stars
As the flames danced in their eyes
Till the embers twinkled out cold.

And years of tear shedding
Years of storytelling, star gazing
Left the wonder undimmed and intact.
But star poems have lost their lustre
Since A-grade stars are marketed
With lasers, space ships and aliens
For 10 rupees at our local video store.

And we all watch them.

~Aniket Alam~

– –
Published in Danse Macabre’s La Cour des Miracles edition of September 2010.

The Crow on the Wall

Like the noise of a forlorn horn
Not working, it caws.
Like a glistening coal covered miner
It considers the world.
Like the twinkle of light in a gem
It expectantly eyes me.
Like an oracle cursing with a fling of his hand
I shoo it away.

~Aniket Alam~

– –
Published in Danse Macabre’s La Cour des Miracles edition of September 2010.