Five Hill Poems – Ananya S Guha

1
Mother
hyacinths fade
these hills are
no longer questioning
accepting me as I am
what I was, roguish ways
trickster but lover all the
same,their lover.
And, how you loved
tanning on the front
of the  house
in a   makeshift
breakfast room
as I mounted
on these blue jagged
hills, with winter
giving another chance

to love.

2

You were not there on
these streams
where dry images
of  the goddess floated
I was not there to  say
goodbye, but passed
the streams, crossed
them wading through
polo  fields
just to play cricket
chance an arm
with bonhomie
in winter’s settling
dusk. Eye, face,
nose, and my weight
on the hills falls lonely
as a skewed bird
hovers madly
wanting  season

to change.

3

Why do these hills waver
when Christmas
walks across  them
and oranges ripen
Get the ones from Cherra
I say, the baskets over ripe
as bystander haggles
I haggle with winter
it’s pristine charm
foreboding weather
run down memories
compelling me to wear
coats of dust, hidden
dreams, mufflers stained
with marks of wine
I drank on evenings
of  pleasure.
Little ones ripple with laughter
Crows caw, caw
my mind sinks into horizons
of a hill town which I ask
to love,

Me.

4

Weathering the storm
in rainy afternoons
is all that  I  get
even after contemplation
even after praying
doing a bit of good
walking roads
on tight rope hills
the sun sinks
looks like a water melon
as fruits burgeon into death
we cut the flesh one by
one and say ” how fresh,
tasty”. Images change
on rainy afternoons, evenings
your face mirrors
and on the path
heavy man slumps
down on his dreams.
I waver at the astonishing fury

of these  hills.

5

I’d rather die
than see these
hills decapitated
they are cutting down forests
suppose they behead  these
hills with their neat chop
whom will I look at
how will colours change
green, blue,pristine dark
how will I hold this cup
of  wine, sitting on the terrace
mulling over poetry,poets
and aroma of words?
When a child,mother said
these are not dogs barking
but hyenas or wolves
as Laitumkhrah, somnambulist
walked steadily in my carping  dreams.

Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He has been writing and publishing poetry for 32 years.

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