For poetry, a pen won’t do; use a knife, instead, advises G. Kameshwar in the opening poem in ‘Seahorse in the Sky’ ( A software engineer since the era of punched cards, and working with TCS since 1985, the poet ‘is usually lost in voyages in mythology, travelling, ‘seeing’ and exploring Indian culture, knowledge and art.’

Some days are like deserts, he depicts in ‘Timesheet today.’ Dunes, with not even a decent cactus to chew, runs the description. “Whole day/ You sculpt dry sand/ and end of day/ You sign-off on dirt./ Man’s got to make/ a living.”

Sometimes I feel like a dog, Kameshwar confesses in ‘A dog’s dilemma.’ One among many, who can’t quite decide whether to run, and catch up with the dogs ahead, or wait, to let the dogs behind catch up, he continues. “While all the time, the bone that I so desperately seek,/ Is the one that is inside me.”

To IT people, keyboards can at times be a source of inspiration. For instance, there is a semicolon, finds Kameshwar, “Between the time when one is ill and the time that one has fully recovered, Between the dilute acid of disease and despair, and the heady wine of good health and cheer, Between a coiled up question mark, and the happy headstand of exclamation.”

The day is not far away, the poet predicts, in ‘Mouse-trap’ – when computers will create poetry and pictures configurable to the semicolon and brushstroke! “You could ask for a gimme-quick-song/ A Milton or Kalidasa feel-alike/ On any which dream theme you feel like,/ Set the number of lines you need,/ And while you tamely tolerate/ A few try-me/buy-me advertisements/ The gizmo will deliver the goodies,/ ‘Internet Lost’ by Milton,/ ‘Cloudburst of e-mail’ by Kalidasa…”

Delectable collection.


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