Author Archives: Kanwar Dinesh Singh

Last Offering

… That tree was embedded
In the walls and the ceiling.

That, who subscribed its organs
Several times to the rites
Of a lineage.

Great great grandfather perhaps reared,
And worshiped it, his descent
Relished its shades
And multiplex offering.

The great new sons felled it
For the repairs of the old
House.

Yet the tree was happy
To have merged into the family.

Myopia

The monsoon mackerel sky,
Humectated hills and fells,
The sun winking at earth,
The mist-ridden Shimla
Runs into haze.

I standing lonesome
At a corner of the town
Watch the fresh,
Fresh cumuli of fog
Arising from deep
Crevices in the dells,
Misting the suburbs,
Everything,
What’s left is I,
In my singleness,
I, the sole thing extant,
As an entity in
The evanescent town.