Green Poetry by Salil Chaturvedi

Quietly

I take the cool water

out of the machine

and the cheese and the fruit

and the bread,

all these I take out of the machine

which has been keeping

them safe for me,

running quietly

on electricity that has

been entering my home

also quietly,

having been tapped from dams

that have large catchment areas

under which lie a cache of mud huts

dissolving quietly.

A River Until Smile

A river until smile

that’s dazzling until feather

flying crazy loops giddy

swimming deep being a bubble

hopping pretty flowers freaky

tickly raindrops on our traces

floating clouds until valley

tender sighs popping faces

twisty winds until giggly

dancing light liquid bodies

inside out until shiver

That Magnesium

That magnesium lies

at the very centre

where chloroplasts accumulate

and photosynthesis takes place

where poems are written

and symphonies composed

where people love and

murder each other

where dancers perform

and mothers bring up their children.

At the very centre

where the magnesium pulsates,

trees grow, birds fly,

tigers hunt, the moon shines and

deer come to take a drink.

That magnesium is what people mine

when they kiss,

and they kiss deeply

to get to the purest ore.

That magnesium is where the Dalai goes

when he closes his eyes,

where all questions bury themselves.

That magnesium blinds you,

because once you’ve seen it

you cannot see anything else.

That magnesium glows

at the very centre

of a story,

of a song,

of a life.

The Grave of Two Friends 

It’s an awfully

large tombstone

for a tree so small,

and the little bird’s call,

so big,

this mall.

Kaziranga

I went into a forest,

in and in

and in

Where did

the soil end,

                             and the tree begin?

Where did

the tree end,

 and the bird begin?

                   Where did

the bird end,

and the sky begin?

I went into a forest,

I went in and in

and in.

  

Five Metallic Fingernails

Five metallic fingernails

A hollow palm full of mud

Shining steely ligaments

Caterpillar tracks skid and run

To bright yellow baby trucks

To open mouths, a meal of soil

Shining gold of setting sun

Ghetto kids cheer the toil

A mullah’s far away azaan

Wagtails on the sliced edge

A deep hole in the earth is pounded

Something’s lost when something’s founded.

These Trees

These trees,

these tall exclamation marks!

sprouting from the brown pages of the earth,

branching into lignin coated sentences.

Sometimes letting fall

commas of leaves,

em dashes of twigs,

full stops of berries,

and asterisks of flowers.

One of these days

I’ll ask the butterflies –

The close readers of this fine,

Oh-so-fine print.

Salil Chaturvedi is a wonderer and a wanderer. He blogs at saliloquy.