Poet's Day by Neetu Malik Archives

Yearning by Neetu


 Yearning
  
 I glisten in tears 
 like an April dawn,
  
 covered in dew
 like blades of grass,
  
 whispering notes
 like softly falling raindrops,
  
 I call your name 
 like one who is lost –
  
 listen achingly for the sound
 of your answering call.
  
 © Neetu Malik

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A Parting by Neetu

August 26, 2019 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as A Parting, Neetu Malik, poetry

A Parting

 I hold fragments
 of you
 in my ash-grazed hands
 to put them 
 in an urn

 they sound like 
 empty shells as I 
 drop them one by one

 the fullness 
 in my heart leaves
 no room for echoes

 I know your footsteps
 will never return.
 
© Neetu M

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The Gardener by Neetu Malik

July 26, 2019 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as gardener, Neetu, nurturing, poems, poetry

 
The Gardener
 
  You water me  
 that I may grow 
 lush and luxurious
  
 you prune me 
 when my branches stray
 too far out or too high
  
 you mulch me when
 you think I may
 wilt or die
  
 you nurture me as if
 I’m too frail to stand
 on my own
  
 as if without you
 I may fail to thrive
  
 in truth, maybe it is you
 who needs me,
 to survive.
  
 © Neetu Malik

Listen to Neetu read The Gardener

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Aware by Neetu

June 26, 2019 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as Neetu Malik, Poet's Day, poetry, sand, tide, waves. quiet

Aware

I carve words in the sand

I know the tide will rise

and wash them away

but I write them
until my hands are gritty
and the color of sand

I speak to the waves

I know they don’t hear
but I let the words roll out
of my mouth anyway
until they sound

like the waves

I listen to the wind

even when it is still

I can hear silence in the quiet

it utters words I wouldn’t
otherwise hear—they come
from within

First published in TAT Poetry, December 2016

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The Hereafter by Neetu

May 26, 2019 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as death, life, Neetu Malik, poems, poetry

The Hereafter

They say there are
two sides of the grave

one where grass grows green
trees bloom and decay, leaves fall
winter winds blow, then
life renews again

and you can walk and breathe
watch the sky and the streets
touch and be touched

the other side, I’m told, is evergreen
peaceful and sedate

is it the dead below the ground
that whisper such tales? Or is it
the living who search for grace

in their lush imagination
of a fertile eternity?

© Neetu