Brewing Tea

Brewing tea

The finest blend

From the green hills

Of Darjeeling

The day lit with a lustrous light

Glowing sky

An unseasonal squall

Fermenting

Curtains billowing

The fan fomenting

In a mad spin

Lightning hidden in the folds of clouds

Thunder buried in the deep sky

Raindrops beginning to fall

Drop by drop

The wet fragrance of the earth

Mingling with the gentle aroma

Of my brewing tea

The blue teapot waiting expectantly

On the kitchen counter

A face, unknown, yet known

A half smile like the lustrous

Light in the sky

The sky darkening like moist eyes

Poetry sobbing with a silk soft voice

 All this I pour into my fragile cup

Made of delicate bone china

My silver spoon stirring

My amber tea steaming

The finest blend

From the green hills

Of Darjeeling

Raindrops now falling heavy and fast

Drinking my tea sip by sip

-by Rita Putatunda

My Garden

My Garden is sometimes sun dappled

Sometimes rain spattered

Sometimes with patches of blue shadow here and there

Gnarled trees stand tangled outside the fence

Their entwined roots

Holding secrets of the Earth

In my garden the wind blows gently

And the trees whisper furtive longings

My garden is filled with birdsong

The caws of crows, the mumbles of pigeons

The coos of koels, the trills, chik-chiks, whistles of unknown birds

There are assorted flowerpots

Some with plants with painted leaves

Some with flowers blooming to greet my eyes

Some are empty waiting to be filled

An old, rickety table stands in a corner

On which a terracotta elephant

Contemplates Time

And a coconut slowly turns into a wrinkled husk

In the sun and rain

In another corner, leaning against the wall

Is childhood’s cricket bat, chipped and worn

And the yawn of a sleepy cat

My garden has my secret days and nights

Sometimes cloud filled

Sometimes star speckled

Sometimes freckled with rain

In my garden every moment

Is being born and is dying

At the same time – timelessly

Flowers budding, withering, ceaselessly

Leaves sprouting, falling, eternally

-by Rita Putatunda

Dark Moon

I am the Dark Moon

Of the Amavasya Night

They see me not

So they call it a moonless sky –

I traverse alone

On my dark path

Through a dark sky

Unseen Unwanted

Unlonged for –

On me the fingers of the Sun

Never touch

His golden gaze locked

Forever on the fair face

Of my sister the Full Moon

As she glides in triumph

Across starry skies

Glowing in her silver glory

While I stay forever hidden

Forever forbidden

Within the smothering folds

Of my black veil –

No lover gazes at me

With longing eyes

No poet’s pen pauses

Seeking words

For the songs of love

Written with his blood and tears

About my dark face –

They see me not

So they call it a moonless sky –

Who knows what hidden longings

Lie within my dark breast

Who can fathom the hidden prayers

Buried within my dark soul

Who can hear the dark beating

Within my dark heart

As I traverse alone

On my dark path

Through a dark sky

Unseen Unwanted

Unlonged for –

They see me not

So they call it a moonless sky

I am the Dark Moon

Of the Amavasya Night

-by Rita Putatunda

Oblivion

On my walk today,

(a familiar path, with familiar people, walking into the sunrise,

Up the hill)

Suddenly, I found myself all alone.

 I looked around, I looked ahead, and behind -

Everyone had disappeared

Into oblivion.

Oblivion, like death,

A mysterious evaporation.

A bat of an eyelid, a blink of an eye,

And nonexistence triumphs.

I waved a silent greeting

To a familiar face

And watched it being eradicated.

An empty space created, instead.

A shadow that bespoke of a life

That was meant to be – and knew oblivion had

Transpired.

And I knew, with the wisdom of the ages,

That there would be no return.

And so, each moment passes by,

With oblivion around every corner

Of the ticking clock. And yet, the mind

Clings to shadowy remains, of words half-spoken,

Conserving them in memory.  

Oblivion vanquishes sunrises,

Turns all to dark nights.

While the brain spins fables,

To while away the hours.

-by Rita Putatunda