K Siva Reddy - Poetry

Contemporary giant Siva Reddy is a friend.
We met at a literary meeting recently.

Later he sent some of his anthologies.

I find that with the advancing age, there is a shift in his expression.

I found on some blog, perhaps on Pustakam, some one wrote that Siva Reddy's poetry is more of musings these days.

I do and don't agree with that statement!
Yes, the intensity of thoughts will sure gets to go down with the age.

I have a typical example in the following poem!

Is it a poem?
Or musings as was said in the blog?
To me, it is very meaningful.
It is very true!
It is something that everyone will not accept like here!
There are some very simple truths that everyone and his neighbour knows!
But, it takes a Siva Reddy to tell them like this!

My Translation

If we are not there

We think for ourselves

That if we are not there, how these people would live

How the world would be able to continue

They would be alright even if we are not there

The world would go great guns even if we are not there.

You think that you steer the wheel of the world

That all is linked with you

That would only it would dawn when your cockerel coos

No, even if you are not there, the vehicle would keep moving

Children would be born, would grow up

Fall in love, get married

Would be sad glad and unhappy

Laugh like never before

Birds fly, winds blow, flowers bloom

The guy and the gal when sit together

Moon would appear, millions of violins like tiny flowers would say in the winds

Nights also would be heartening

They would cajole each other

They would weep on each other’s shoulders

Would be shocked, wicked, and fall everywhere

Lend a hand to the fallen and lift him up

More than when we are there

The world would be much better

It would be more meaningful and beautiful

Nothing would be lost if we were not there

Than our not being there

I have another poem for you here!
This is typical Siva Reddy!

Inch by Inch

Moves inch by inch

Sometimes just does not

With a broken wing, would struggle

Like Duryodhana with thighs broken

Helpless, would fall to the earth

Like broken to four or five pieces and

Struggling to join them up

Smiles a smile sans lips

Now and then

Laying a hand on cloud’s shoulder tries to walk

To the birds or tender saplings

Makes an appeal to give a little age

Now and then

On the anvil of the wayside blacksmith

Would extend red

Another time

Would roll in the gutter

From the municipal tap

Would drip a drop at a time

With hair let loose

Weeps sitting under the Margosa tree

In the winnowing basket of the fortune teller tribal women

Remains as rice grains and cowry shells

Immediately

Turns self into the same fortune teller, and prophecy in detail

Drawing lines with lifted hands

Moving not moving, happening not happening, smiling not smiling

Telling not telling,

Looking into open hands rub the face with the palms

Like a mad woman

Singing, cursing

Drawing its feet goes away “The Time”

 

Both these pieces are from the latest anthology "Posaganivannee"

What a title?
 Let us enjoy good poetry!