The country road like poet’s fancies unravels
Through the giant hanky- sized paddy fields
And the dream sized ponds
Dotting the landscape
in perfect squires and riots of skewed and regular shapes
The green spread and the muddy beds, spell the village beauty.
Parrot green fields
And stark blue skies look at each other
In perfect silence, like mother and babe
And a great , grey house exposing its ragged bricks,
Bared like the buck tooth of the old
Provokes a village memory
Past picking itself slowy and ambling into the future
Its wooden columns
stand like mute exclamation marks!
or so it may look to me.
Flies the skidding scaly tarred snake
Fast and spreading like the traveler travelling on it.
Patchy it looks, now;
And full like the misery of the scorned lover
Eager like the maiden speech of a parlimentarian
The country road, runs fluid like a stream after the rains.
As the rustle of the engine trips and falls
into the divine air.
A roaming peacock calling adds charm to the great whole fare
A winged beauty, struts across
Nudged by the sputtering , speeding me.
The exotic avian attains the hedges galore
With its metal blue feathery strangeness blurred in my glancing eye
A species rare, found only in ornithologists diary.
A clamour in the air
And the school boys emerge in buddy pairs
Beneath the village banyan
That let loose its tresses to dry like a country maid.
I see, a promising glint in their eyes
The will make themselves of king and ministers of the modern days
The sonority of ringing bell
clubs the cacophony of school boys in into two dead parts.
They return to their classes, sanctified by the silence,
And open their minds to the feminine vocie.
A Glorious moment ,
As the morn of wisdom is born
Rich are the sightings of poor country side
And many are the mappings on the way,
My sensibilities recouped,
I drove back
not spent
But profound.
sound.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC