I was thinking of a forest
of dry brown leaves
rustling in the wind,
when it occurred to me
how the sun had decided
that it could have a different
radiance in my head.
I kept this with me, real or no,
I did not really bother to check.
Things that way were different
I thought to myself.
I drifted with the winds,
knowing them to be kin,
hoping they would carry me along;
Someday, I dreamt, someday
I would extend my hand
and crush a leaf.
The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).
that is a house
and there is grass around it
and an endless green wood
full of trees
in those trees
there are birds
that are chirping
and the blue sky
high up above that
has light glowing
here when a car passes
on the grey road
a whole new world opens up
and everywhere I see
all across the universe
there are children
skating from tree to tree
from the terrace of a white building
across pink domes floating
in the skies
pigeons enraptured cooing
cool winds blow
now lights are beginning
to come on in the houses
that look like mouses
and I live
on this road
it is evening
under these streetlights
and elsewhere in the city
the traffic is moving
these birds here
flying in the sky
it’s them
I think it’s just too much to bear
this beauty this sorrow
how do you feel about tomorrow
and then it happens
my mind goes
now there’s all kinds of shows
the whole sky can collapse
with its stars
and the darkness
without a shadow of doubt
is some creature with life
I become
and when I now
lift my eyes up
there is the moon
and Spiderman racing along the roofs
in all the windows
are dancing forms of light
it is quite a sight
it turns me into a kite
but soon these winds start blowing
there’s lightning and there’s thunder
and no more time to stop and wonder
the sky now has really opened up
and the rain is pouring all around
there is such a sound
I’m stuck at the edge of this ledge
I cannot sleep
there is no place to leap
so finally my mind
with nowhere to go
closes like a curtain
knowing at last that nothing’s certain
and into itself folds like a flower
unlike a falling lover
I’ll die when I die
bye bye.
by brown-and-cream trains
red BEST buses
I travel in black-and-yellow autorickshaws
taxis
through the neon burning
green orange fluorescent
pink
and think how much the withered darkness holds…
how the broken stars’ sob stories
keep the golden sand
awake at night
and the sea sniffling…
The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).
is an old greying building
in the rain
and I climb up
its old wooden staircase
only when I reach the top
the terrace
will I be able to fly away
then I will be a bird in the sky
a kite a star a moon
orbiting the earth
I will be a cow an alligator an elephant
I will be vast silences of snow
of places and things I don’t know
but I will fly
into the darkness
and into the light
till I am free
from being me.
of memory
dialogue
imagery
right now
and when I cough
from smoking
it totally disappears
and then starts
all over again
pretty soon
and then there is sky
that comes from nowhere
random combinations
of vague images
that haunt
that get stuck
that float in and out
slowly creating silence
slowing creating colour
red and blue
earth and sea and sky
and in this complete silence
a boat rows in black shadow
how beautiful the earth is now
these hills in the darkness
the pine trees and their branches
rising like smoke into the sky
how the stars hang shining
and black langurs climb the mountains
enchanted with everything
and I soon feel
I am at the bottom of the sea
and there is no greater feeling
than this beautiful blue
caressing me
I see the stars come searching
for this warmth
how they undress
and go to sleep
on the seabed
and then I find
myself turning into a whale
I take to the ocean and I swim
in the magic sleep of darkness
my mind is water
and then I stop and look
and find my belts hanging from their hooks
and I look at my grey cupboard full of books
and I open my window
and take to the sky
and I fly and fly
disappearing from view
only to find myself again
lying in bed
looking at my hairy legs
at my stomach breathing
under my orange T-shirt
and I find I am unusually calm
very relaxed
my feet warm
making funny faces
at me
and I smile to myself
thinking this is definitely different
and I feel very good
and there are these wonderful sounds outside
an aeroplane in the sky
soft
soft snatches of vehicle beeps
and then a hawker
blows his horn
and I am gone
and the sparrows are chirping
the crow is cawing
and then the pigeons coo
I love you
and sunlight climbs the sky
like a wave
and now the whole world
is shining bright golden
this is what I seek
I feel the need to speak
though I also think I should give it a break
it’s only the beginning of the week
so thank you so much
it has been simply sublime
I’ll catch up with you some other time.
The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).
of anxiety bombs
how they spark slowly
and go off
who comes to my mind
who wants in
who wants out
outside the world is one whole
green plain
in the evening
the sky is silver
I don’t know what it thinks
I only see how sad it is
and how it bends down
all the way
to kiss the earth.
flare like an open palm
lifting me into the lap of the breeze
the azan from the mosque
is the sky caressing my heart
long cool notes
become the silence of the universe’s dawn
and now the cocks crow in relay
a clear cacophony of joy
as I fall through
the smoke like leaves of the pine trees
turning into a big black langur
and I feel more
than thousands of years old
falling into my armchair
and when I go back
from the balcony
into my room here at the homestay
to take a leak later
I look at my face
in the mirror
I look at my face under
the blue woolen cap
I look at it
for more than usual
first there is only my mother’s profile
then I get a glimpse
of my father’s face
my own face
I find
it takes such a long time to see.
The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).
come to rest
in this room
my glass in its
pool of water
under dim red light
has golden whisky
silent like the walls
the pictures come alive
the side-table
and the speakers
high in the corners
cough through static
some dead singer will croon
of love
of loss
and then the bar will bristle
the conversations start to flow
forks and spoons
clatter on plates
when a glass would
fall to the floor
from someone’s hand
who couldn’t hold it anymore
and soon we’ll find the swimming ceiling
the spinning sky of misery chasing happiness
past the pale white moon
and the stone cold stars
that will finally claim us all.
The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).
in my mind
hangs like a silent cry
in my heart
in my stomach
the universe is dark
there are no stars in my eyes
no moon in my sky
only emptiness
only absence
and here I sit hunched
over my computer
thinking of the sky’s whiteness
in which black birds fly
and it turns to blue in my mind
and I see sunsets and palm trees
and slowly drift into sleep
and then I suddenly dream
I am a river
a green river
under those trees
and when the moon sings
at night
I dance and sway
rippling in cool waves of thrill
and in the afternoon
under the sun
I shimmer like an emerald
playful warm
flowing calm.
The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).
the greyness
out of the water
till it is colourless
at the end of land
where it merges with the sky that is grey
trying to take the greyness out of the sky
I travel in
a city of grey
waiting
like a photograph
that is probably not there.
The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).
Dominic Alapat 