indi

nor named

out there somewhere is a river not yet named

a mountain slowly rising

no eyes upon it still, no sense knows of its being

a sand dune unseen simmering

 

deep in the green below

under the swaying blue

breathes a creature i don’t know

uncatalogued, not turned into a species

no not yet not yet

 

a river flows from your eyes

a mountain rises in your heart

sand shifts through your veins

something remains

never to be known

nor named

 

when i know do i really know

or lose you

when i name do i surely go

and erase you

 

 

 

indrani’s index

 

 

 

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6 Comments

  • lalitasarya@gmail.com'
    Reply
    Lalita Arya
    March 21, 2016 at 8:08 pm

    Wah, wah, Indi. What beautiful words, what exquisite expression and what philosophy revealed in splendid poetic form.
    :…under the swaying blue…” I like, I like. I was born near the ocean and can so relate to the feelings expressed here. thanks for giving my day such a profound start.

    • Reply
      indrani robbins
      March 21, 2016 at 11:29 pm

      hi lalita, 🙂 🙂 delighted you enjoyed the poem… yeah, it sort of came along. born by the ocean? how lovely. thank you for that lovely comment. glad day started on a happy feeling.

  • Reply
    DurgaS
    March 21, 2016 at 9:05 pm

    Thoughtful words Indi. From a time when nature is just evolving to a person’s innermost feeling. Really, these changes keep taking place. And do we have to name each and every change? And define it, describe it, bind it within a framed structure? Let there be no boundries, let there be no restrictions, let it evolve and grow or change into whatever it wishes to. We can just feel it and not call it anything.

    Loved the last four lines.

    • Reply
      indrani robbins
      March 21, 2016 at 11:27 pm

      hi durga, thank you… as you say, we are so driven to label everything… we think we understand things, we get it and yet i really wonder… so happy happy you liked last four lines.

  • Reply
    rhea sinha
    April 6, 2016 at 9:34 am

    it is interesting how each reader takes away a different feeling. Perhaps the true mark of poetry.. I sense a certain restlessness.. “something remains.. never to be known..nor named” beautiful indi di..

    • Reply
      indrani robbins
      April 6, 2016 at 11:30 am

      restlessness, always in me… i think. good catch. we try to label name understand everything. but can we? do we really get it? and won’t somethings always be outside our grasp… isn’t it absolutely lovely and essential that it’s there? truly precious. thanks for your thoughtful note.

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