Thursday, 12 June 2014

uproot---fly high...

                When rains come down to flood the town 
And earnest citizens really ought’er 
try to make and keep things sort’er 
 I make water

                                                                    (Maya Deren, April 29, 1917 – October 13, 1961)

Saline, roots tangled beneath;
wings weaved out of clouds
fail to catch up with free swans,
and as they glide past, clouds,
they rain down back to saline,
roots tangled beneath.

When all search firm roots,
I dig, dig out roots
to weave wings with tangled roots,
to uproot;

the swans, they fly high in blue sky.

Visit imaginary garden with real toads for more.


  1. "Wings weaves out of clouds" beautiful..I think each of us has the desire to fly and at times our tangled roots keep us from finding our wings. Thanks for writing this!

  2. Make lemonade with the lemons, Sreeja. Nice.
    I too'd like to be flying with those swans but instead I'm down here digging up roots so I can try to make some wings. I'd rather have had feathers.

  3. cool...making wings out of the roots is a cool thought
    and hey whatever it takes to fly again eh?

    interesting how you wrap around to saline...

  4. Maybe we don't have wings but we soar with our imagination anyway. You've imagined a lovely poem with your tangled roots and clouds.

  5. I enjoyed this and it's interesting the way in which you brought repetition to certain words.

  6. I warmly greet you and invite you to watch a new photo album on my blog. Have a nice weekend!

  7. Your words ... have left me mesmerized always, and the trend continues :-)