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A patient note
I am in a hospital: dressed in a hospital gown, reclining in a bed of pain, aware of an irritating catheter draining the pink urine into a bag; the city skyline illuminates my room window; I scroll down the pictures, the people, in my phone; an absence fills the shelves of my mind. I pine for simple things, like piddling, like washing, in privacy, with dignity. (07/03/2021) (Setu Literary Magazine- USA) ©https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ We often believe
We will be able to hide Our true essence, the fabric Of our soul, indefinitely, Behind a mask, carrying A tongue of Mandela. We often forget the maxim: Our actions, not the silk Of our words, or our dresses, Will eventually unravel us, Revealing our true spirit, The Mugabe within. (03/06/22) ©https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ Our brain
Our brain, as old as the sea, carries the footprints of our every activity, a shape carved by our experiences, our ancestors, our environment. Like a cask of memories carries our identity, heirlooms; a universe filled with our own sunshine, clouds, people, and beasts. Like a parliament, our brain, debates endlessly about our conflicting, endless, desires. Our brain, a shape-shifter, constantly rewrites its circuitry. Every day our brain tries to break free from its reptile instincts, its ape behaviours, its Neanderthal desires. The spring of our ecstasy, anxiety, depression, fear, and love, is hidden in the recesses of our brain. Despite all the hyperbole about the human logic, most of our activities run on an autopilot, by-passing reason, by-passing consciousness. ©https://www.poeticnoesis.com/ |
PoemsThese poems have been previously published in various literary journals, magazines, books and anthologies around the globe including the UK, the USA, Ireland and Canada.
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