Mishra Bhairavi

one
seam less
in the tapestry
of the gathering
curve,

unpicked
un
raveling.

***

In the crook
of Bhairavi’s elbow
he charms a simper
out of
silence;

and silence, emboldened
ventures
a nervous thought,
before going back into its
cave
***

In the pink of an ascending blush,
the dhaivath bends hesitantly
and slips into an inevitable lingering

Like sleep resting.
Like a spreading,
searching,
spume;

this music is water
learning the coyness
of the morning
***

The tune rests
in the small of
her back-
the point where
light meets darkness
and turns away
haughtily.

A liquid discontent,
restless,
taking a deep breath –

it becomes a curling meend
that dreams the shape
of fire

***

The pancham is a city,
and his fingers
pause at the gates,
sniff the breeze
before moving on unsatisfied

and chancing upon
the day, fallen haggard
on the next street
A slumped nishād…

***

The pluck untangles
slowly like the touch
of naked flesh

and she shivers –
a frisson of young
passion

***

Sitting atop the
dragon’s head
of his been

The raag asks
me what means more –
the momentary flame
or the inexorable river?

and his hand rests
on the string –
a moment’s pause,
hiding an ocean
under the veil
of its anticipation.

I see now that
both are insignificant,

before the stillness
that breeds them.

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About teevramadhyam

'I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity' -Poe
This entry was posted in beauty, Music, nasha and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Mishra Bhairavi

  1. Sourabha Rao says:

    I cannot tell you how happy I am to have found your blog. Thank you. Thank you for your art.

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