Nests. And a net thrown
neat around my neck.
It is night the concealed
voices are looking for.
Words are working out
against the napes of cries.
A withe of moment draws
me to an unknown throat.
In the dark a white, a
grief of lost. What is grace,
how dead, in this wanting
to be enough to reach across.
-- Jayanta Mahapatra (The False Start , Clearing House, 1980)
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About Me
- Anand Vishwanadha
- Hello and welcome! I am someone who is passionate about poetry and motorcycling and I read and write a lot (writing, for me has been a calling, a release and a career). My debut collection of English poems, "Moving On" was published by Coucal Books in December 2009. It can be ordered here My second poetry collection, Ink Dries can be ordered here Leave a comment or do write to me at ahighwayman(at)gmail(dot)com.
Take A Look See
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Meet Annie the author8 years ago
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Poems online3 years ago
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Alice Munro: Marathons in Sprint6 months ago
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Another Rakshabandhan – without any suraksha2 months ago
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Dreaming of Ladakh10 months ago
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An Even Dozen4 years ago
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Indian in Space: A phony Socialist trick12 years ago
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Recipe – Easy Apple Halwa4 years ago
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