Indigo

[pavalamani pragasam]

Recollections technically told! Electronic age!

[Querida]

in snatches
in catches
in patches
serendipitously
a lock unlatches
appearing
in a mist of clarity

a lull in now
a recognition
of beings
afore unseen
of words mutely mouthed
before they are muttered

a flashback
to a dawn dream
scoffed away

that unshakeable
feeling of
being in two places
at once

once before
and
once again

the unmistakable
dawning of a deja-vu

[Querida]

with annoyed incredulity
i watched
miserable fear
augment her face

the scenes of my life
lay scattered elsewhere,
to strewn about to bother
showing up

with fear
i awaited the pain
already it had taken a hold of me
frozen me to the spot
convincing me it was inevitable

i braced myself
for the electric nauseating waves of metallic impact
of harpooned shards
and gritty glass
of that sickly white gleam
of bone,
the meaty flesh
maddening red
raw and shrinking from
the burning air

i awaited to feel
the horrors it would
wreck upon my cringing body
the scars it would
carve into my very being
the pain that i would
live with day to day
the pain that i would
feel in parts no longer there
the pain that i would
know no return from....

[pavalamani pragasam]

Horrible!

[Querida]

Horrible!

Yes PP Maam, it was a shocking experience...
so close and thank God she swerved away and I inched to the left at the last moment...

[pavalamani pragasam]

May luck be yours always!

[Querida]

around every corner
and every turn turned
every stair quickly ascended
every escalator leisurely descended

in every crowd scanned
and every seated passenger
caught
in the smudgy, scratched, dark windows

at every halted station
in its dreary tiles and commissioned art
on every platform
in the assemblage of expectant faces

in the blur of tubular partitioned colours
whooshing past
into the pot-lighted tunnels

in
every single
face up newspaper photo
peeking from underneath the benches
gray, bent, wilted
flickering its thumbed edges
for attention
in
every rolled up shiny magazine
with subscriber fingers surreptitiously
clutching its glossily splashed pages
in
every poster partially obstructed
bold, repetitive, ad adorned

at
every door entered
and every other door exited
every eye caught and blinked away

my attention remains but one moment
my memory collects but one impression
my life leaves behind another life

[pavalamani pragasam]

Fast and transitory- a true spiritual experience!

[Querida]

the Unbeliever's
defeat lies
in the grasp
of ideality.

Until Then...
If Ever...

he remains
the tired wanderer
who will never know
if he has gone
far enough
to know...

[pavalamani pragasam]

True! ........