Tuesday 16 June 2020

When they dont talk









absolute inclusion of shared laughter
hushed confessions a breeze,
they make eyes shine with undertone of tears
or make the glare of anger visible and the prism of sarcasm unique
the frequent loss of connection
what fills the void?
the talk is a wet leaf on the floor
dried leaves they talk in the rustle, before they get drowned in the soak
the emerald lake holding waves '
from crashing the shore
mind speaking unspeakable things
where do we find the listening ears?
the flow has ebbed, the atrophy in sound
dining rooms edified with silence,
what do we eat, when we have nothing to speak
its excruciating, the intense act of morsel feed


Copyright Kavita Trivedi, Polestar- A collection of poems


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I can still hear the birds

When I hear the birds you know it is going to be allright It's my blanket, my safety The twitters and calls The flight, the spread...

  • The birds i heard
  • I can still hear the birds
    When I hear the birds you know it is going to be allright It's my blanket, my safety The twitters and calls The flight, the spread...
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