Mathew John, Poetry 2022 Shortlist

Half Chai


Half Chai
is meditation
as you get used to
sitting on the steps,
the sweat of working women returning home,
family- full bikes whirring past,
dogs shitting in yellow brown,
the proverbial old woman with a stick,
the pan-spit stains, the finger dips and
the Brownian motion of brown tea powder.

Half Chai -
In this bonsai of a glass
Red brown
Earthen colour
Earthen mirth.

What is there
That I have not known over a glass of tea ?
Love. Anger. The sharing of souls.
Drink
Red brown sorrow
Burn the brain - lest it sleep to death.

Half chai
Again and again
Slows down my speed train
Makes crystals out of time
Gives me back
The still of the moment.

For resurrection in the mornings,
Salvation in the evenings
Thank you.
Here, I betray you
For four steel coins.
My half chai,
Crystal maker.

REFERENCES

Half Chai – is the local Indian slang for a small glass of tea. ‘Chai/Chay’ means Tea in Hindi.

Mathew John, Poetry 2020 Longlist

Two Cards

 

Think big.

But

If your time is up,

Be

The God

Of small things -

Coffee.

Crayons. Hugs. Laughter.

Stories. Dogs. Starry nights.

Zephyrs.

Old trees.

Great lakes.

Dome shaped skies.

Long walks with friends.

Couches.

Awe.

Coffee.

Again.

Poetry 2018, Featured Poet, Mathew John

When Great Trees Fall

Grandpa,
When great trees fall,
Everything is changed.

Though the wise shall pretend to be wiser,
And quote profusely from the great books,
Though the women shall soon find greater grievances
And lean heavily upon the dementia of time,

When great trees fall, everything is changed.

Though the birds flying away shall soon find other canopies,
And the red earth endure the fierce sun like a silent wife,
Though the elders shall gallantly try to remain stoic,
And stare harder at heavy clouds waiting to shower,

When great trees fall, everything is changed.

Though the Ganga shall lose count, as always
And tears, dismissed, with ready-made rebukes
Though another rain shall wash away the blues,
And a hundred new greens, aim for the skies…..


Grandpa,
When great trees fall,
Everything is changed.

At times,
A song erupts, a smile flowers
And wonder strikes, not unlike thunder
From unfathomed depths,
Which is, not quite, me.

Grandpa, they call it ‘genetics’,
A castrated word,
For the ‘you’ raging inside me.

(Poem written in the background of demise of the poet’s grandfather.)

Poetry 2018, Featured Poet, Mathew John

WHEN GREAT TREES FALL

Grandpa,
When great trees fall,
Everything is changed.
Though the wise shall pretend to be wiser,
And quote profusely from the great books,
Though the women shall soon find greater grievances
And lean heavily upon the dementia of time,
When great trees fall, everything is changed.
Though the birds flying away shall soon find other canopies,
And the red earth endure the fierce sun like a silent wife,
Though the elders shall gallantly try to remain stoic,
And stare harder at heavy clouds waiting to shower,
When great trees fall, everything is changed.
Though the Ganga shall lose count, as always
And tears, dismissed, with ready-made rebukes
Though another rain shall wash away the blues,
And a hundred new greens, aim for the skies…..

Grandpa,
When great trees fall,
Everything is changed.
At times,
A song erupts, a smile flowers
And wonder strikes, not unlike thunder
From unfathomed depths,
Which is, not quite, me.
Grandpa, they call it ‘genetics’,
A castrated word,
For the ‘you’ raging inside me.

NOTES

• Poem written in the background of demise of the poet’s grandfather.