Kala Ramesh

The Spoken Word Poet

She goes on and on without a break comes at the end of a thought before she starts the other I look down to get a feel of the words rattling away a haibun seems to sit somewhere between all this my mind slips into words like the poet's in multitude pour the anguish of my heart aching to reveal to say all to prove a point to pacify the ego without which I would almost be The Buddha, I want to be.

block-printed
hip-hugging kurta . . .
her bosom
displays the fullness
of each flower