Saturday, 15 December 2018

Poetry 2018 First Prize Ananya S Guha

Runaway Time

It is time that is apiece 
on a mantle piece  
shards of time  
knotted in sanguinary mythic places,  
that is history winding into infinite spaces, 
the bard has no time for reflection

I have found time  
in the runaway ghetto  
or in the monastery
or in the prayer of hope  
crushed in wheels of death

Now is the runaway time the  
clock ticking in hubris  
the violent become pacific
the pacific incognito  
shining luminous lights
of  war scarred oppression.  

Blood, let there be may we  
may we Pray. Die.
The luminous lights fade  
Blood is slowly, 
taking over man or animal.

annulled by timelessness  
genuflection of time
a poem stares into the future.

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