The Perfect Death by Neetu

January 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as , with 8 and 1
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They have been sitting on the porch 
in reclining chairs, an old couple,
watching the world go by
 
each evening the sun's shadows pass
over their faces revealing
nothing more than a few lines
of contentment
 
they never touch, their hands
always resting neatly on their laps,
or sometimes, they hold a glass of wine. 
 
Passersby note with some surprise
how unmoved they are by changes
like when they widened roads
and built that new high-rise
right in front of their little row house,
dug out cherry trees and tall maples
that grew on both sides
 
but no one wants to ruffle sunshine
with questions—
they just wave and smile.
 
Today they sit as usual, 
the last of the sun's rays flicker
grudgingly, a little hesitant, it seems
 
the woman extends her hand,
touches his
 
their eyes meet—
her hand still on his, a quiver
passes her lips,
 
she closes her eyes
as he covers her hand
with his.

© Neetu Malik 


Author Bio
Author Bio
Born in India, Neetu has lived in Austria, England, and Canada before settling in the Eastern USA in 1994. Neetu’s eclectic work reflects her diverse background as she explores the joy and darkness of the human condition in poems and stories noteworthy for their intensity in brief span. Her poetry is published in journals and Anthologies from Australia, USA, UK, and India. Her poem, “Soaring Flames”, was awarded First-Place by the NY Literary Magazine (2017). She has also been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, 2019 for her poem “Sacred Figs” published by Kallisto Gaia Press in their Ocotillo Review in May, 2018.
  • Birds by Neetu

    crow flies overhead
    I hear pandemonium

  • Hurricane by Neetu

    last night’s hurricane  blew the roof off
    pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires

  • Roots by Neetu

    She needs to dig deep
    to pull the roots
    that grow under her feet
    to do so requires strength

  • Sanctuary by Neetu

    my room
    a sanctuary
    at the end of the day

  • Molting Bird by Neetu

    It must have been 
    a stormy night
    when love flew out the window
    of my vacant room 

    like a feather 

    from a molting bird.

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Born in India, Neetu has lived in Austria, England, and Canada before settling in the Eastern USA in 1994. Neetu’s eclectic work reflects her diverse background as she explores the joy and darkness of the human condition in poems and stories noteworthy for their intensity in brief span. Her poetry is published in journals and Anthologies from Australia, USA, UK, and India. Her poem, “Soaring Flames”, was awarded First-Place by the NY Literary Magazine (2017). She has also been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, 2019 for her poem “Sacred Figs” published by Kallisto Gaia Press in their Ocotillo Review in May, 2018.
  • kplumb says:

    I love the idea of not ruffling sunshine and the way the radiance of this couple maintains equilibrium throughout neighbourhood reshuffles, bequeathing a sense of peace on the community.

  • Lovely poem, Neetu!

  • moonfroth says:

    Yes, though the poet’s focus is on the old couple, the effect of the images is to radiate outward to the community. ‘rogress’ in the community would seem an imposition on them. The effect is in reality just the opposite: their serenity and love casts a kind of blessing on the community. to achieve that kind of organic feeling in a few lines takes great poetic skill.

  • Neetu Malik says:

    Thank you, Carol. I’m glad you liked it.

  • Neetu Malik says:

    Thank you, Clark, for the usual insightful reading of the poem. It was actually inspired by an older couple I know. Though in reality, it is the man who is dying, this poem was written long before I knew that.

  • Dianna Sinovic says:

    I like the way you use the thread of the setting sun as a metaphor.

  • Neetu Malik says:

    Glad you like it, Dianna. Thank you.

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