Pratibha Kelapure

Immodest Eyes



beads of sweat mingling
with steamy drops of
water dripping from the
curve of my back

fan of palloo unfolded
moist fingers fidget
gather pleats of sari
whimpering baby, wet blanket

pair of immodest
eyes piercing the
honeycomb window,
chill runs up my spine

A piece of me
plucked away, a moment
of shame I carry
in the folds my
sari forever




Quilted Heart

Tattered clumps of my heart,
my bloodline exposed to the world
flung on the highway,
like confetti at a frat party
like a b-rated horror movie
the clumps whirled, tumbled,
and clung to each other
to form a soft quilt
Now my quilted heart
beats with a maverick beat
laughs a dizzy laugh
sings a purple rhapsody
voices from the yonder past
alien as the buzz of a starship,
song of the aloof friend
my arrhythmic heart won't hear
heartsease I attained
all tolls remunerated
this sanctuary of mine
deep green grass and.
window of the asylum

Cost of Living



walking home, her
father was wary of her
tantrums, cries, demands for toys,
lovely toys, in stores with
fluorescent lights,
from behind the locked
glass shelves, teased him daily.
cost of living was so very high.
A game of hide and go seek,
she loved to play,
lively three year old,.
1-2-3.. she ran, to the shade,
on the side, the open jaw of
the underground water tank simply
swallowed, the cost of
a cover was a little too high.
Stunned for a moment,
Senseless the next, the pale blue
sash on her lily white frock
fluttered in wind like a flag.
A picture of serenity,
two snug braids in her hair,
lying in her mother's lap,
that evening she did not cry.

Answer to Langston Hughes's poem Dream Deferred



The Dream Deferred
Becomes the Dream Obsolete,
Or like a scare-crow
in a harvesting garden--
Frightens the singing birds.
Like a disfigured midget
In a Carnival--
Becomes the laughing stock--
of the chronologically young.
Explode, my friend, it does not.

Insomnia



Eyes keep vigil all night
The hot lava of words flowing
From fiery fissures of my mind
Slips unnoticed from the sight

The hot lava of words flows
Like smoky clouds through forest fires
Slips unnoticed from my sight
Burning new holes into my mind

Like smoky clouds through forest fires
A wave of despair now rises high
Burnt holes in my mind
Sadly, it can not allay

A wave of sorrow rising high
Drowning my tongue, binding me in spell
Sadly, it can not allay
Eyes keeping vigil all night

A lifetime literary student, Pratibha Kelapure is a computer scientist by training and practices fine art of software engineering. When inspired, she writes poetry. Her poems have appeared in various electronic magazines. Currently, Pratibha is working on a manuscript of poetry.