‘On the wings of the seraph’: Two poems by Preeti Manaktala
Photo: Karan Madhok
‘Sparrows line up on a hanging / electric wire in the distant // chirping and waiting to dry their moist feathers, / but the sun seems incapable today / amid the fog.’
Winter calling
A loose button hangs from my old cardigan;
it has kept me warm for four winters.
The days are weak and
so is the sun.
Sparrows line up on a hanging
electric wire in the distant
chirping and waiting to dry their moist feathers,
but the sun seems incapable today
amid the fog.
Shavings of peanut peels crackle under my feet
as I walk to check a wet blanket
that waits forever for the indolent sun.
Crimson red heat spreads from the old heater
to the pair of socks and linen drying nearby,
while a few tangerine leaves left on the tree outside
continue to shiver in the cold, waiting to die.
My old cookie box has been rusting all along its lid
maybe upset due to its lost identity
I scout for an apt needle inside that box,
The button has given up.
So has the sun.
So will the winters.
*
Dreams
Don’t bury them
but burn them
and let them melt in the bonfire of your heart.
See them then spew sparks in all directions.
Now open your fist and
sprinkle them with some gold dust.
See them fly on the wings of the seraph.
Feel them orbiting the stars
Feel them write your name
on that luminous sky in gold
Yes, dreams manifest.
I often dream
With my open sparkling eyes.
***
Preeti S. Manaktala is a published author, poet, blogger, and a contributing writer to various online sites. She is currently serving as the Features Editor for Rhyvers-Beat. She received the “Poiesis Award” as a Distinguished Poet for Poetic Excellence at the 12th National Poets and Writers Meet in Bangalore.
