Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 3, Number 1. May 2020. ISSN: 2581-7094
Inbhir
Nis
The little river flowing through the city
A city that gets its name from the river
Feed by a lake that is further ahead
Spanned by bridges that hold both sides together
Feet move up and down across some
Wheels and feet make a motion elsewhere
The clouds create the grey, the clouds add to the cold
Tall spires stand out piercing the clouds
The screeching of the gulls does not disturb
A churchyard rears its head from behind a wall
Rows of tombstones peep out
A small speck of red, someone has just been
remembered.
Spring
in the City
There are some red, a little bit of yellow,
A dash of violet too, here and there
Oh, I see an orange too.
How could I miss them
Concrete has taken away much of what used to be
Yet, whatever is left back, smiles at me
As I move past them
They add colour, and happiness too
I like to freeze them
I like to share them
They come back every year
I pause to see them, they are my spring companions
They will go away soon, I know
As long as they are there, they charm
On days when I feel low
On times that are hard
A view, some colour, a little change.
The
Old Building
It stood alone
Paint peeling off, the windows shut
Rusted iron grills, broken parts
Here and there
Some bit of colour, quite a bit worn off
A laden clothes wire
Green foliage breaking through the masonry
Roots struggling to break through
That old building at the corner of the street
Still had a story to tell, stories of my city
If only people would stop by to listen.