Poems written as part of the National Poetry Month Challenge 2024.
Pink Moon
My mother would often say,
"The more pet names you have,
the more loved you are."
My daughter and I
took this to heart. We counted
her pet names once and we landed
at twenty-five!
Thirteen more than the moon.
The Algonquin must have loved the moon
but they only have twelve names –
one for each full moon.
The wolf, the sturgeon, the corn,
the beaver, the worm, the buck and
the hunter and more found a home,
in their love names for the moon.
I love the strawberry moon
and the pink moon the most.
But my favourite is the crescent
as it hangs low in the sky,
with Venus for company.
A shining lantern that smiles at me
bridging cosmic distances and
reminding me,
she has twenty-five
pet names to carry.
Sun-Struck
The horizon is nothing but a railing...
a fence that we can walk up to,
and look over.
Like looking down the sides of a cliff
'Oh! this is where he goes
Every night!'
Seeker
I have this romantic notion
of seeking grand truths
amidst great hills.
Tread paths walked smooth
by mystics and poets.
To sit in stillness and be illumed.
To walk amidst the deodars,
to sit by the Bagirathi, to worship
at the feet of stones and streams.
And wait, for the light of the ages
to grace me.
Chances are you will find me
mulling secret cosmic mysteries
while chopping greens
and stirring the curry,
or looking for dim, distant stars
from my too-brightly-lit
city balcony.
A sage for the modern times.
Wilderness
I have this dream of walking amidst trees
enveloped by a quiet wilderness, not frightening.
Here, as I walk, I can hear more than my mind think
Here, as I breathe, I can feel my skin melt in a breeze
Thoughts that are slumbering in the depths of my mind
step out gingerly stretching their fragile wings.
A few take flight and I watch them soar,
often, out of sight, like in a dream.
Disappear
I am trying to write about
what has disappeared from my life.
But how do you write about a human-sized hole?
A presence, and an absence.
Even the sky shrinks.
With her gone, so am I.
But in poems as in life,
I only have
more questions than reasons or rhymes.
- Binu Sivan
PAPER DREAMS 