Poem: On Reds

The red in my glass, it comes from
cranberry. Yours, is from grapes.
And yet, given the laughter on this
table, it isn’t all that obvious, is it?

Our earrings jingle, and you admire
my cheap, brass bangle. The dirt
in the joke is our secret. It’s been
dark for four hours now. And it’s
nowhere close to the next morning.

There’s nothing too feminine about
you right now. Your soup dribbling
from your mouth. The joke hitting
you in the gut. But this giggling, it’s
the most womanly you have been.


Filed under Photographs, Poetry and Fiction

9 Responses to Poem: On Reds

  1. I do.

    Sometimes, I think you should be the writer and I the research/non-creative person.

  2. Erm, meant to say that you should be writer. Might have implied you are non-creative person which is so patently false.

  3. is this the poem that got published in the gultland textbook?

  4. I knew a man who giggled with abandon with me once. We were both high. And the joke was so stupid I don’t even remember it.
    Lovely last line, Neha.
    Honestly, this world would be much more cheerful if men could giggle.

  5. Wanna say something smart…or at least something remotely creative. Yet I find myself in loss of words.

    And so will *giggle* some more. :)

  6. Bloody hell…my grammar seriously sucks. *looking for chullu bhar pani*

  7. Not sure which I like more, the photo or the poem. The dark usage is brilliant there.

  8. Ravages: I understand. :) And am very thankful..

    rads: :)

    skimpy: I get the feeling that anything even referring to some sort of alcohol isn’t going to get published in the Andhra text book!!

    Grasshopper: I seem to be meeting men who do giggle quite a bit of late. It’s quite a relief!

    Sakshi: That chullu bhar pani killed me!

    Vidya: Thanks ..