GN (6-4-1968 / kerala, india)

In The Postmodern World

In Postmodern world
My son
Made a whistle
Out of a palm leaf.
Not only that,
He also blew on it
And there was sound-
That same old voice!

The wonder doesn't end there
He infact tore it apart
Like a boy
Living in a pre-modern world!

How old these,
Made new thus
How new these,
Made old thus,
These times
Swing us
In the swing.
Seen from there
Even Jesus
Swings
Un-crucifiable.

Like a teeth
Wobbling like human love.

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Comments (1)

In this fast life i could not pay attention to palm leaves. & Forgot the technology to make whistle out of it. how old is my brain made new by technology and how new my brain made very old by the same technology. nice poem.