Monday, May 19, 2014


From the delirious contours-
of your larynx, pours-
a pebbly brook of enunciations.
an unruffled, put-together thought-
you- became both ‘night’ & ‘gale’
each tremulous lilt-
the fever & fervour in your ‘fret’,
a path within me gives-
an aching twist.

under your gutturals linger-
a wilderness of timbre-
fermented in honeyed thunders-
(Oh! Your “Oh”s!)
Each cadence resonates-
an ululating verse in my spine.

a dappled quiver, your-
gently bristled Adam’s apple
vocal-folds luxuriate-
ripples from sheer mauve to cerise,
its impassioned whispers igniting-
my sobbing axons,
toes curl & squeal.

I come apart, my lungs unthaw -
into a flock of quetzals;
pour forth – ecstasy
– immortal bird
I wake. I swoon.
- Jeena Mary Chacko (2014)
{On listening to Benedict Cumberbatch reciting ‘Ode to a Nightingale’}

1 comment:

Deepti U said...

WOW! that is such a well worded compliment! Benedict will read thy prose oh fair Jeena!! Blessed art thou :)