Much used Bird
This is a much-used bird
Still it remains sans any defects
And is in good condition.
Even though painted repeatedly for years
Not a single feather has been lost.
Every time we wink
Every day at dawn this bird
Goes out of the canvas.
Only during that time
The corrections in the painting can be carried out.
The bird eats all the colours in the painting
In the same manner
On another day I had written a cute song.
It had pecked and swallowed
The words in front of my eyes.
To a great extent this bird
Has been used
But is still without defects
And is in good repair.
Most probably you would have
Guessed by now which bird it is.
you don’t have the chance to guess in future.
Cease your reading and
Please just quit the place.
This is the time of return
for that bird to enter the poem.
IF TURNING INTO A RIVER IS NOT POSSIBLE
Most of the evenings I go to the banks of river Thillai
To see the crows taking bath.
A few crows get dissolved in the water_
Since I couldn’t tell this to anyone convincingly
the news dissolves in me.
The snakes slither up the shore and disappear in the bushes.
The fish nibble and play with the legs lying in the water
On the other shore
Someone waiting with the nets
will catch them.
In the river that flows jaggedly
like the parting line of hair of a little girl,
lotus flowers float.
From the day when I went
and returned in the middle -
I stopped taking my evenings
along with me afterwards.
Every time when the river grows into a flood
It visits my house
And also takes whatever it wants
The woman whose name I don’t want to tell
Also has a river in her
Which resembles that river.