I carve words in the sand
I know the tide will rise
and wash them away
but I write them
until my hands are gritty
and the color of sand
I speak to the waves
I know they don’t hear
but I let the words roll out
of my mouth anyway
until they sound
like the waves
I listen to the wind
even when it is still
I can hear silence in the quiet
it utters words I wouldn’t
otherwise hear—they come
from within
© Neetu Malik
First published in TAT Poetry, December 2016
Between sunset’s fiery streaks
slipping into the sea, and
the rising of the silver moon
is my twilight zone.
by the river
he looks lost
his face appears ancient
in rumination
under the sycamores’
embracing shade
thinks he might see
God
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A quiet, consistent–element by element–fusion of the persona’s senses and the natural forces of which she is a part. All that is, is One. A recognition that we need poets to constantly put before us. These few lines in perfect balance, show The Way. Anyone can say, “we should pay attention to the natural world”. . .and we won’t. A poet of Neetu’s power can impel us into images of such depth and clarity. . . we just might.
Thank you, Clark.
Thank you to the many folks who share my poems with others. It is appreciated.