2 Poems
By K.V. Raghupathi
• • •
Where are the trees?
Too many rising buildings
too many statues
too many sidewalks
too many roads
too many parking spots
but too little space for trees
in green silks and golds
to toss and sway in the wind.
Where is the mud
for them to ascend and grow and blow?
too many statues
too many sidewalks
too many roads
too many parking spots
but too little space for trees
in green silks and golds
to toss and sway in the wind.
Where is the mud
for them to ascend and grow and blow?
You will never see a tree
lifting its emerald head to the sky
in silence, sheltering birds
but umpteen poems in print
wailing in vain from the bound books!
lifting its emerald head to the sky
in silence, sheltering birds
but umpteen poems in print
wailing in vain from the bound books!
I am sorry and sick
to watch from the windows
only the trees dwarfed in pots
like artefacts
displayed
in the soaring apartments,
showrooms, hotels, and offices.
to watch from the windows
only the trees dwarfed in pots
like artefacts
displayed
in the soaring apartments,
showrooms, hotels, and offices.
Only in the shadow of the buildings
I can rest and hide when the sun hurts me;
Only in the expanding shadow of the buildings
against the quiet earth
I can see the misery of the world.
I can rest and hide when the sun hurts me;
Only in the expanding shadow of the buildings
against the quiet earth
I can see the misery of the world.
Someday when they raise their voice
against the surging dust and smoke,
each voice torn out of wind
I shall be gone forever.
against the surging dust and smoke,
each voice torn out of wind
I shall be gone forever.
To the Hill, I Lost
For thirty summers and springs,
I have watched it surrounded by verdant fields
from dawn to dusk,
transacting with the golden light falling,
standing majestically –
peerless and pure
in grand and wonder
studded with trees and birds;
a small dilapidated hilltop temple
shooting up like tangled twisted knot on Siva’s head;
I have watched it surrounded by verdant fields
from dawn to dusk,
transacting with the golden light falling,
standing majestically –
peerless and pure
in grand and wonder
studded with trees and birds;
a small dilapidated hilltop temple
shooting up like tangled twisted knot on Siva’s head;
now, its flesh chipped off,
its chest bare, bony
with misshapen deep cuts,
cold and blanched
stand like a ruined monument
grumbling at passers-by;
its chest bare, bony
with misshapen deep cuts,
cold and blanched
stand like a ruined monument
grumbling at passers-by;
a solitary hill,
not a bird chirps his song,
not a tree in the vicinity winks and whirls;
my peerless hill, splendid in her charms once
now, a rocky hill with surrealistic images
moved me to sadness in silence
oppressive to endure
as I stand.
We never tire of looking at each other,
only the disfigured grey hill and I are left in the evening light.
not a bird chirps his song,
not a tree in the vicinity winks and whirls;
my peerless hill, splendid in her charms once
now, a rocky hill with surrealistic images
moved me to sadness in silence
oppressive to endure
as I stand.
We never tire of looking at each other,
only the disfigured grey hill and I are left in the evening light.
• • •
A former academic, poet, novelist, short story writer, book reviewer, and critic,
K.V. Raghupathi, widely published and anthologized has been writing since the 1980s. He has
published thirteen poetry collections, two novels, and two short story collections. He lives in Tirupati
and is actively engaged in writing in his post-retirement life. He can be reached at
drkvraghupathi9@gmail.com.
K.V. Raghupathi, widely published and anthologized has been writing since the 1980s. He has
published thirteen poetry collections, two novels, and two short story collections. He lives in Tirupati
and is actively engaged in writing in his post-retirement life. He can be reached at
drkvraghupathi9@gmail.com.
