I see the underbellies of birds, dark and undistinguishable feathers below the bursting but blue clouds.
The sky is without sunlight, the colour wrapping it is like the old womb of industry, revolutionary but past, the iron furnaces are gone. The air is untainted and silent. There is no chill or heat, neither fire nor ash. Only unwavering pleasant swirls of gusty drafts, painting the motions of a storm but never reaching one.
Tag: Light
Prenicious
waving as I pass
sudden craving
in father’s name
cold as snow
the moon reflected
a flower opens
red dragonfly
I climbed the hill to find
only a butterfly
Light fish
Star Car
A Sunset Road
The road ahead sprawls under the setting sun,
Half draped in banyan shades, half in orange.
I love the full moon of the cloudy night,
The road an endless serpent; the moon a hidden pearl.
At The Match
Above the filling clusters of people,
fluttered moths and insects of night
in the revealing rays of stadium light,
who care not for the flight of beetles
when echoed growls follow the rite
and crackles of colored light,
while monsoon brought no evils
only drizzle colored grey against night.
The Sights of Night
Sprung darkness marks light,
when so swift dawns night,
feet echo past light and sight.
The bright might of feline eyes,
out of sight under human skies,
scrutinize under shadowed guise.
Rijul Ballal 