TO MOUNT A SUNBEAM:
A BOOK OF POEMS
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© Shreyashi Srivastava 2010
I started writing odd bits of poems and songs as a seven-year old. I dreamt of being a marine biologist, archaeologist, even a detective but finally settled for being a journalist. Currently, working as a travel writer for a television channel, I am straddling two worlds – the creative and the dour real. My first book of poems is a walk in time capturing my childhood, its fleeting visions; faraway lands; mindscapes and delusions. My life revolves around, of course, work, my family and the constant need to talk surpassed only by the need to eat – junk preferably. I realized writing is a way of life for me when instead of firing up at my classmate for his idiocy, I wrote down my feelings at the moment, entitled ‘Anger’. This sounds funny and bizarre, well, welcome to my world.
To watch a city come alive at night
By the very seams that fester in the light.
To watch a city bustle and tide
And come to ruins by its very might.
Dancing, winking tinsels pirouette,
While cranky old ladies play the roulette.
They pout, they frown,
They pounce at the pound.
They feint, they paint
Peels of old walls they ain’t.
Far and wide is their taint, such saints!
To stand and stare, waiting for your turn,
To watch with helpless fury others take your share.
Fluttering eyelashes buy themselves the night,
While portly cigars bid for the Light.
Countless wheels do the Fortunes roll,
Each trying to be on her scroll.
To grope for a matchstick in the growing disdain,
To be thwarted by pledges of “world peace” once again.
Find your way,
You are one in a million,
Remember, all ready to spit!
Reel by reel
The old film flashes,
Borne by a breed
Like celluloid dreams crumble to ashes,
From dust to dust to insouciant bashes!
To watch a city build a cocoon,
Racing past death towards its doom.
To watch a city bedraggled and dazzled,
Besotted by its own, unaware of its cradle!