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Shloka Shankar


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Shloka Shankar profile

A Selection of Extraction Poetry...

Life

Extracted from ee cumming's poem, "If"
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You and I

Exreacted from T. S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"  

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Pools of Joy

Extracted from Emily Dickinson's poem "I can wade through"
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A Selection of Poems...

Death Rains

The city looks
sullen and crimson
bathing in the moonlight
with paws stretching
out in the form of sky-scrapers
 
flashes of lightning
threaten the homeless
and the harlots into vacant plots,
or worse still, oblivion
 
the moon looks red this night,
and as if calling out to me,
she whispers, “I’m bleeding”
 
shafts of light shoot
through the sky like meteors
and I realize mankind is
soon going to pay for his
onslaught on Nature.
 
We are no Wordsworth:
we wait calmly and patiently
in the false security of our homes,
cringing from devastation
 
a lone tree gazes back at me as
I stare out the window
and it seems frail,
ready to be brutally felled
 
I smirk, wince,
and go back to sleep.
 

At Shool

Suzie Meddlehead once went
to shool and stirred up a terri-berri
mess! Her muffer gave her a bag
with books and kleens and bid
her a faire adieu.

She reached her class and saw ole’
Jack who looked like a whimperloo!
‘What’s the hatter with you, silly?’ she baked!
‘Oh, I’m higgledy-piggledy, Sue’ he whiskered.

‘That’s bawd!’ she said with downcast hair.
‘What can I do to make thungs worse?’ she chirped
‘I want to go away, Sue. I don’t laike it hear’ he cuckled.

She saw the teacher walk in and stood
uprote with a cherry smile on her visage.
‘Miss, may I take Jack to hell?’ she asked
with conjunction.
‘But what’s the latter, Suzie?’ the teacher lightninged.

‘Miss, I want my mommy!’ said Jack, his vice tailoring.
‘Awright, awright! You can go, but only on one
injection. Can you deride your alkabet?’

And thus, liffle Jack bedang…

‘Aye, Bye, Cya, Dya, Eya, Eff…Zeyad’

‘Now oft you go, dong bard!’ said the teacher
distilling him.

Jack randered off as Suzie
remained dreamy-eyed in shool.

Mr. and Mrs.

She knew how he
wanted his things:

in place, all shiny
and museum-like,
never once a speck of dust
covering them or disarrayed
in any way.

He knew what she needed
the most:

like a little bird that
flitted around the house,
his heart was her nest;
cozy, untidy and all hers.

Vertrag, 1919

Wounded egos sought
repairs while the victors
remained undefeated.
The Allies seemed
heavy-handed and
the opposite camp
was routed.

Peace or no peace,
war had ended.

Faith fled the
honest Christian,
anarchy reigned,
demons were resurrected
and power enthralled all.
Prufrock stood heralding
the new nation.  

Five Line Poems

The river meanders
seemingly unaware
of its current...
never looking back
all the while.


The stars shine effusively
in an attempt to touch
human lives --
now threadbare
with the approaching night.


A cold wintry day
sets my hairs on end;
wistfully playing the coquette,
the breeze tantalizingly
caresses me.



The river meanders
seemingly unaware
of its current...
never looking back
all the while.

Lock and Key

A gentle breeze sets
the curtains aflutter
and the door begins 
to close in on itself

the lights in the hallway
are turned off and the narrow
gap below my door licks 
the darkness clean

howling in the next street,
a dog doggedly looks for its scent
while I curl deeper under the covers

ruminating about the shadows
lurking behind my soul,
calling out to me stealthily,
inviting me to join them 
as I parade my sporadic
strains of madness
kept under lock and key. 

Stairs

A quick
chill
runs
down
my
spine
when
I
see you.

Comments?

***

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