In your town I search,
without seeking visitations’,
of the divine.
Not for me the corpus of maudlin and hymen. or scores lost in meandering intent.
there's you somewhere,
in the oxygen that I breathe.
Somewhere in the hairclips that tie disparate strands in airy weaves and raised flags,
In long ago defeat.
somewhere in the roaming of the mind
around the bends in the head,
somewhere in the rusted edges of your contempt are shrugs which begin
from eyes that have already reshaped history;
Entwined it in cobwebs of stretched out half-shreds,
shrapnel bursts from long ago.
I’m in your town
and I seek a glimpse. I’ll never find.
Author Bio:
Rony Nair’s been a worshipper at the altar of prose and poetry for almost as long as he could think. They have been the shadows of his life.
Rony was a published columnist with the Indian Express. He is also a professional photographer about to hold his first major exhibition and has previously been featured by Chiron Review, Sonic Boom, Quail Bell Magazine, YGDRASIL journal, Mindless Muse, Yellow Chair Review, Two Words For, Alephi, New Asian Writing (NAW), Semaphore, The Economic Times, 1947, The Foliate Oak Magazine, Open Road Magazine, Tipton Review, Antarctica Journal, North East Review, Muse India, and YES magazine, among others. Rony has also featured in the Economic Times of India. He cites V.S Naipaul, A.J Cronin, Patrick Hamilton, Alan Sillitoe, John Braine and Nevil Shute in addition to FS Fitzgerald as influences on his life; and Philip Larkin, Dom Moraes and Ted Hughes as his personal poetry idols. Larkin’s’ collected poems would be the one book he would like to die with. When the poems perish. As do the thoughts!
without seeking visitations’,
of the divine.
Not for me the corpus of maudlin and hymen. or scores lost in meandering intent.
there's you somewhere,
in the oxygen that I breathe.
Somewhere in the hairclips that tie disparate strands in airy weaves and raised flags,
In long ago defeat.
somewhere in the roaming of the mind
around the bends in the head,
somewhere in the rusted edges of your contempt are shrugs which begin
from eyes that have already reshaped history;
Entwined it in cobwebs of stretched out half-shreds,
shrapnel bursts from long ago.
I’m in your town
and I seek a glimpse. I’ll never find.
Author Bio:
Rony Nair’s been a worshipper at the altar of prose and poetry for almost as long as he could think. They have been the shadows of his life.
Rony was a published columnist with the Indian Express. He is also a professional photographer about to hold his first major exhibition and has previously been featured by Chiron Review, Sonic Boom, Quail Bell Magazine, YGDRASIL journal, Mindless Muse, Yellow Chair Review, Two Words For, Alephi, New Asian Writing (NAW), Semaphore, The Economic Times, 1947, The Foliate Oak Magazine, Open Road Magazine, Tipton Review, Antarctica Journal, North East Review, Muse India, and YES magazine, among others. Rony has also featured in the Economic Times of India. He cites V.S Naipaul, A.J Cronin, Patrick Hamilton, Alan Sillitoe, John Braine and Nevil Shute in addition to FS Fitzgerald as influences on his life; and Philip Larkin, Dom Moraes and Ted Hughes as his personal poetry idols. Larkin’s’ collected poems would be the one book he would like to die with. When the poems perish. As do the thoughts!
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