Geethanjali Dilip

Geethanjali contributes poetry to various and platforms, literary blogs, anthologies and Facebook poetry pages.

 A graduate in English Literature, she teaches French heading Zone Francofone at Salem.Her several collaborative anthologies are widely read. 

Her solo anthology “‘Geethatmaa” is now in book stores.

She is a recipient of The Reuel International Prize for Poetry 2017, and a winner of a commendable mention award at The Great Indian Poetry Contest 2019,by On Fire Cultural Movement, and recently been awarded Indian Women Achievers’ Award from Asian Literary Society. 

Rowing

On a bright sunny day when the cuckoo sang,

The air was alluring and I sighted musical notes gleefully hang,

In the distance through glens and dales bells of faiths rang,

Stirring an old and forgotten song waking me up with a bang.

 

Saying “ Step in and feel my cool and warm blood,

Drunk with moonlight of harvests and droughts, and oceans’ flood,

Feel with your bare feet earth’s slush and mud,

As your skin and flesh come alive watching goosebumps bud.

 

Float your boats and canoes smoothing my wrinkled creases,

Like you would iron out satin and silk with twilight breezes,

Ever so gently with your palms that my breath eases,

Cleansing you of all maladies and unwanted diseases.

 

Listen to stories of my beginnings, origin and flight,

Of how I took that free fall and cascaded in delight,

Thudding amongst boulders and forests soaked in shade and sunlight,

And how they drank me lopping up my liquid prisms bright.

 

Close your eyes as you let the winds caress your face,

Look around as you see my visage smiling at you with grace,

Although there were times I went dry and of my blood no trace,

Baring my bedrock gaping at rainless skies as I lost my race.

 

Even as you drift with ageless broken tree branches floating,

Remember my journey through ups and downs, I’m not gloating,

Tug at your oars and feel all your poetry unfolding,

For verses are all over brimming in birds’ voices singing!

 

Drink from my dappled soul chants and incantations,

That bards and pirs, sages and fakirs strewed in melting oblations,

As I murmur along the banks in my course and inundations,

Flora and foliage nod in cadence 

to harmonics and notations.”

 

So I stepped into the emerald, turquoise, teal and jade,

My mind a river as words I raked with imagination’s spade,

I saw myself rowing a canoe on a pristine glade,

On her watery torso as ripples smiled into rivulets to fade.

 

The breeze strummed the water around in gentle dulcet sounds,

Every time my heart hurt the song of the river resounds,

How it runs in its path losing its identity as it bounds,

To merge with the oceans and disappear from its meandering grounds.

 

©️®️ Geethanjali Dilip 


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