Sunday 15 August 2021

Kripa Rajalekshmi, Poetry 2021 Shortlist



Dream was to keep it as simple as the streak of kohl in her eyes.

Who would want the smudge?!

So she, being no different, smoothened out

The inky bedaub, moist from the deluge

That had once flown out of them,

Disrupting her simple lamina of kohl.

With gentle strokes of her fingers,

Still hot from boiling blood,  nevertheless,

She traced the track all around

That which had made those paired streaks

Of magnetizing night lining her eyes

Spread night through and through those very eyes,

Sans the moon or the stars.

She blended colour with care,

And the best of capability,

Crooning favorite lines all along.

The ink is now brill and deep,

A beaming contour to each of the pair,

A full moon shone right at the centre,

It had its phases afterall!

Starry glitter in and out, all throughout,

She turned the smudge to Smokey Eyes,

Crooning favorite lines from an old reprise.

No comments:

Post a Comment