| Coda: A Poem by 'Snug' People sometimes send me their poems for my opinion and of late I have received a number of poems from a young man who lives in New Delhi, India. They are of a high quality, especially bearing in mind that his first language is Hindi - not that his talent needs any qualification from me. It is apparent in every line. He sent me this poem 'Coda' just a day or two ago and I was so struck by it that I have made a reading to share with friends on You Tube. He has not told me his real name and I know him only by the pseudonym 'Snug' Coda is a very good poem and I find the language very moving. Snug has a great feel for language, by which I mean that his language is something like a physical presence, immediate. The images in the poem are also immediate and often, in his poetry, I feel what he means even without actually knowing always exactly what he is attempting to say. One cannot do better than this for poetic immediacy. 'Incipient desire is memory's muse' is a beautiful line.And his poetry (what I have so far seen of it) seems shot through with melancholy, like all the best poetry. CODA 'The serene sky lost into the night.' My eyes on which you put your fingers are fingers. Fingers which roll the uneven memory Surpass trajectory and become oblivion. And return oblique from light to darkness- Not oblivious. Darkness and love floors the heart- Incipient desire is memory's muse- As willing and unwilling failings Abide the bittersweet tear and dew. 'Tardiness is washing me up as I smell the gunpowder.' Ah! Violence has failed me. I must step inside the well and contemplate. Water is heavy as I. Inside the well we had met Astounded by a razor's nakedness- Time was trundled on water And the sky delved into a tub Like a pail full of deep dolor The way we live- Looking through a dismantled piece's lens- Dreary out its window- A basic of all glass. Tags: coda snug modern indian poetry in english delhi charles bryant spoken word |