PSH: Poets of the Week

Apryl Skies
aprylskies@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Apryl Skies, a Los Angeles poet, filmmaker & author of A Song Beneath Silence Feb 2010 & Skye the Troll and Other Fairy Tales for Children October 2010. Before entering the publishing world Apryl focused on film with her cartoon and puppet series Polyphony
winning the Gold Pixie award for animation in 2010. Inspired by a wide range of poets and writer's Skies work is versatile and holds merit among authors new and old. Her work ranges from visual and abstract prose and free verse to sonnets and screen plays. While her more light-hearted pieces include amphigories, fairy tales, fables and juvenile verse, Apryl Skies has an imagination without limitations.

Visit Apryl on the web here: http://www.edgarallanpoet.com/

Rain and Café Clatter

There we sat sipping Brazilian blends,
among the béarnaise and Beethoven,
marmalade and fresh bagels

The air; crisp as apples
while light rain tickles tin tables
with curious fingers

Umbrellas spread bird-like
against the sky
and we are submerged
as café clatter shatters
quiet cobblestone conversation

We are warm here by the firelight
where Chopin bleeds
through the kiss of rain,
petting the slosh of puddled boots.

Hungry hounds bound
under canopies
await the breaking of sun

We watch beans roast
and floral skirts sway,
Peripherals capture playful spectacles
as a naked toe climbs a covered pant leg

Steam rises ghost-like from your cup
and for once your ocean-blue eyes
seem almost pale beneath the gray

The waitresses
they are all spinning again
and through the cling and clang
of empty cups, I hear you whisper...

“One more?”

And my response is always the same…

“I would do anything for you”…

Prarthana Banikya
prarthanabanikya@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Prarthana Banikya is an activist and a freelance writer. She is based in Bangalore and spent her formative years in Assam from where she draws inspirations for her poems. She studied Sociology in Miranda House and is a regular columnist for The Eclectic Magazine.

Pedal Away

Muddy lanes not far
from my tin roofed house
awoken from the ringing
of the silver round alarm
hazy aurora except for the
purple men's bicycle
parked next to the may tree
wet from the morning dew

roads that smell of monsoon
fresh from last night's rain
the only sound comes
from the rusty pedals
against the stillness of dawn
courtyards and jack fruit trees
rose bushes, ponds and ducks
each pied-à-terre has a story to tell

at a distance, a man bent over
drawing water from a well
humming a folk song
that i often heard our maid sing
while chipping the garden grass
as i pedaled by all i could hear was
the humming of the folk song
and the creaking of the pedals
synchronised together

the air was cold
and little droplets of rain
dotted the cemented road
i parked my bicycle
next to the blossoming may tree
there were faint chirpings
and voices in the distance
a sign the day had begun.