Three Poems

By Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Please Sir, No More

An Australian Bush fire rages
A Koala barely escapes the flames
Bewildered, hot and thirsty.
I watch the video from the safety of my home
A compassionate firefighter feeds him water from his water bottle
Then withdraws the bottle believing
the koala’s thirst was quenched.
I imagine the koala saying (reaching out again for the bottle with his paws)
“Please sir, I want some more,” like Oliver Twist,
Meanwhile the trees burned, the sky turned to ash
Homes collapsed, people fled, the earth wept
Oxygen turned to Carbon dioxide.
We closed our windows and our minds
To keep out the smoke.

I’m certain I heard the koala say
“Please sir, no more.” He didn’t mean water.

I Must Be A Forest

(Dedicated to the Yanomami tribe in Brazil)

*The Forest sleeps early.

In winter I turn into a forest.
Like me, the forest retires early
Mother Nature has sung it to sleep
With a soothing lullaby.
Darkness bestowed by invisible hands
Guards its silence fiercely
There are no clocks in the forest
Light and darkness keep time.

At nightfall black inkiness
Blots out its inhabitants,
Birds and animals hushed into stillness
Daytime roaring and chirping done
Exhausted by their hunting lives.
No traffic except perhaps
The dark waters of a river
noiselessly flowing by
unapologetic for the whispers
That announce its presence,
The crocodile floats beneath the water
An eye open for danger or opportunity
The trees have received their blessings
Their prayers for night rest granted.
Dark silhouettes grace the sky
Their daytime look, different.

Till now I slept peacefully in my hammock
Now, I must be like the crocodile
One eye open for the builders of roads
Miners of gold hewing out the land
Cutting me down, mining my peace
Killing the fish, destroying the streams
Killing me with new diseases.

Can you hear the earth’s protests?
The trees moaning? The rivers weeping?
The forest is home
I am exiled forever
A wanderer on my own land.

*The Forest sleeps early. Line from a documentary on the Yanomami tribe.

I Wonder what the Moon Thinks

I wonder what the moon thinks
So many strange objects clicking pictures
Far off from another planet.
It cannot see who’s behind the flashes.
Full moon, new moon, crescent moon.
Does it want to be left alone
To shine in peace?

Moon, say something!
What do you feel
On this matter?
Would you like to wax and wane
Quietly? Need some privacy?

Man has stepped on your surface
Do you mind that? All that equipment?
All that noise?
Wear your moonshine or somber face
I’ll know the answer.

I have only one way to show you my love
I click pictures of you
Share them on my Poetry page
Everyone loves them.
And you!

Grateful if you accept my Friend Request.
I’ve sent you two poems in the Nova Time Capsule
One is my father’s and one is mine
Tell me what you think of them
Please say you love them
With a moon emoji.
I’ll be waiting.

Do you even have Facebook
Up there?
Or have you set your beauty
With a privacy button?
I don’t blame you
We have enough unfinished business
On earth.

Why do we need another’s space?

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca completed her BA in English and French, an MA from the University of Bombay in English and American Literature, and a Master?s in Education from Oxford Brookes University, England. She has taught English, French and Spanish in colleges and schools in India and overseas for over four decades. Her first book, Family Sunday and Other Poems was published in 1989. Her Chapbook ?Light of The Sabbath? was published in September 2021. She also writes Nonfiction.

Subscribe to our newsletter To Recieve Updates

    The Latest
    • An interview with the Editors of Poetry at Sangam

      Taking down Poetry at Sangam must have generated a plethora of flashbacks of

    • The Usawa Newsletter February ‘24

      How JLF helped me with my undiagnosed dyslexia and ADHD In the bustling city of

    • Artists’ representation of the human body by Ruchika Juneja

      the years of growing up were spent in finding ways to belong and belonging in

    • Preface to Mumbai Traps by Anju Makhija

      the years of growing up were spent in finding ways to belong and belonging in

    You May Also Like