When Three is Better than One!
Audiences tend to extoll the solo performance by a creative person and celebrate that
accomplishment. However, there are times
when a group built on individual creativity comes together to provide a different and
intriguing experience. So, as summer
starts to stretch its legs, we thought three would be better than one!
Baker/Miller/Lalit
Murali
Enjoy
the poems from Ethan, Joyce and Nitin.
*****
Ethan
Baker:
Black Hole Language
Contained in alabaster, wrapped
with humming
glass sheath, words
diminish from molasses
tongue, falling
dead to sleeping
ear as the white
noise corrupts
the echo, exhaling
fragility.
Ethan Baker (photo provided)
|
****
Joyce
Miller:
‘i
rami’
A
noseeum landed on a word on a screen on a poem:
‘branches’
lay underneath.
Tinsel
winged, its thin sturdy body remained
immoveable
under assault by breath.
Determined,
with a leaf
of
paper, I sloughed it off
to
a room of students alighting
on
Italian exams with dark pens,
and
foreign-winged words.
Joyce Miller (photo provided) |
***
Nitin
Lalit Murali:
Fate
He
was a teetotaler, but his wife drank,
now
and then, a little gin to relax her
after
a hectic day, counseling teenagers with
existential
problems, unnecessary, unwarranted,
undying,
that one day they went to a partywith their 12-year-old, and she was a little tipsy,
but he kept his discipline, and as he drove back,
passing winding curve after curve, the son
asking questions, the wife’s laughter making
him smile, he kept his discipline, but
reality often pivots the rules we make like a
top spinning, a car spinning after a truck
nicked the edge, memories spinning, lives loved
slipping, he woke up, his life spinning,
spiraling down, and moments
paused for a long sequence,
and a new cycle began, watching everything
he had coast in the grey and touch
the blue, cold river,
his discipline slipping, and he visited a shrine,
his sanity slipping, hoping to look for the
dead still waltzing, walking, waiting,
but found nothing, no Cadmean victory,
and red droplets of anguish, turned a fiery
orange, and he lost his discipline, relationships
with widows, their children unattended to,
uncared for, flings with married women,
their husbands too old and prosperous,
and then finally a glass, no…two…three…
four…ten glasses of gin each day, justifying
it with the nostalgia of that last moment with her,
walking down winding curve after curve,
haggardly, horribly scarred by the pockmarks
of fate, looking up in anger, yelling, “You’re
responsible! You’re responsible!” Looking down
in self-loathing, whispering, “I’m responsible,
I’m responsible,” looking back in senselessness,
asking a mute, “Why?” Having lost work and purpose,
and finally drifting in and out of consciousness…
(Published on Lalit Murali's blog and nowhere else)
Nitin Lalit Murali is from India. aaduna previously published his poem “For Alisha” in the spring 2016 issue. Nitin blogs regularly at https://fightingthedyinglight.com. He struggles with BPAD and OCD and his writing
is sometimes sorrowed, nonchalant, dark, horrific, satirical, erotic or happy. He
tackles eclectic themes and writes both prose and poetry.
-------
aaduna - an online adventure with words and images - a globally read, multi-cultural, and diverse online literary and visual arts journal established in 2010. Visit us at www.aaduna.org where we put measurable actions to our words.
Help us build community! Share with your friends, "like" our Aaduna-Inc facebook page and follow us on twitter @ aadunaspeaks !
aaduna-Inc Visit regularly for updates !
Comments
Post a Comment
Please share your comments, thoughts, feedback, or ask questions - thank you!