Category: Poet's Day by Neetu Malik

Neetu Malik's poetry.
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The Hereafter by Neetu

May 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as , , , ,


The Hereafter


They say there are
two sides of the grave

one where grass grows green
trees bloom and decay, leaves fall
winter winds blow, then
life renews again

and you can walk and breathe
watch the sky and the streets
touch and be touched

the other side, I’m told, is evergreen
peaceful and sedate

is it the dead below the ground
that whisper such tales? Or is it
the living who search for grace

in their lush imagination
of a fertile eternity?

© Neetu

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The Pianist by Neetu

April 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as , , , ,
You play the piano, I listen— 
notes slide off 
your fingers

smooth as ambrosia, 
dripping a symphony 
or a ragtime song 
into my senses 
parched for so long. 

Thirsting for the heady 
intoxication to fill 
my emptiness
I turn to see your 
graceful form, 
your dancing fingers, 

the world slips away, 
as drop by drop, 
pure enchantment 
shivers briefly 

then sinks into 
the deepest 
tunnels of me. 

© Neetu Malik
This poem was first published in The Australia Times Poetry Magazine.

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Silence by Neetu

March 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as ,


between you and me
and the crashing
of the sea

no sound is heard
but that of seagulls
circling in the sky

drop by drop

silence trickles

lengthening each


before it runs dry

© Neetu Malik 

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Star Magnolia by Neetu

February 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as , ,

I awoke 
to a sprouting of spring—
will you pin it in my hair?

I wonder 
as the starry white blossoms 
flutter in the cool morning breeze

I know
that they will blush
to the touch of warm sunny days
still to come

They are 
a promise of tomorrow
as it rises from winter’s long sleep.

© Neetu Malik 

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The Perfect Death by Neetu

January 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as ,
They have been sitting on the porch 
in reclining chairs, an old couple,
watching the world go by
each evening the sun's shadows pass
over their faces revealing
nothing more than a few lines
of contentment
they never touch, their hands
always resting neatly on their laps,
or sometimes, they hold a glass of wine. 
Passersby note with some surprise
how unmoved they are by changes
like when they widened roads
and built that new high-rise
right in front of their little row house,
dug out cherry trees and tall maples
that grew on both sides
but no one wants to ruffle sunshine
with questions—
they just wave and smile.
Today they sit as usual, 
the last of the sun's rays flicker
grudgingly, a little hesitant, it seems
the woman extends her hand,
touches his
their eyes meet—
her hand still on his, a quiver
passes her lips,
she closes her eyes
as he covers her hand
with his.
© Neetu Malik 

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