The Fruits of Poetic Passion Vine

 

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From the moment, on the wings of

The first tender rays of the dawn,

This day landed for me,

I see the poetic passion fruit vine

Has crept all over this virtual sky

And the fruits are hanging like those

Planets, in different size and shades

Some ripened, some  half-way to ripening

And some very raw.

As for me the passion is poetry

Its sweet-sour taste is always such a

“Unforgettable by the tongue”

 

Around three and half decades ago

The front yard of my family home, huge,

Was canopied by giant elanji , moovandan

Maavu, neem and two jack fruit trees

Which kept the entrance into the house

Cool and serene with a divine welcome

My mother planted a passion fruit vine

Just near the far end jack-fruit tree

And in no time it vaulted the front yard

With fruits like those dangling

Planets, in different size and shades

Some ripened, some  half-way to ripening

And some very raw.

 

The fruits had very sharp “sweet

And sour” taste, in orange coloured

Juice and full of seeds within its

Hard sphere like outer shell

Very hard to cut with a knife

Our summer holidays were smelling

Passion fruits literally

We added sugar in mixer to make

Its sharp taste affordable

(With a little cool-well water too)

The juice was still sweet and sour

But I had another passion over

This passion fruit – I made holes

Round and added sugar directly

Then spent almost an hour with a spoon

To finish it, like a small-lettered

Novel reading, making round

And round, in and out of the house

 

There were few birds frequented

And perched during the hot hours of the day

The parrots, manjavalan kili, thoppi thalachy

And the other usual small winging friends too

They tried to eat the fruit, but ended up dropping

Them down , then left with a feeling in me

“the unreachable grape tastes sour”

But at times they succeeded in picking some from

The ground and holding it with their claws

We didn’t get surprised while crossing the front-yard

If they bestowed our head with orange juice, and

Made us walk the whole day with passion-smelling

 

Here in this virtual world, while I cross the streets,

I too bestowed with the fragrant juice of this

Poetic passion fruit, almost everywhere

And they taste not only sweet and sour but

At times very bitter with sweet pain

Yet, I loved them as my passion is

Running in their vines and running all over here

 

They, I wish, would canopy the entrance of my happiness

Ever and forever

I would not search for the shield of Achilles

I would simply pick and taste the fruits:

Ripened or raw, that doesn’t matter

I know the fruit has only one taste,

The “sweet and sour”, and I would add

My passion’s sugar cubes to make my drink

 

 

Sarala

 

Author’s Footnotes :-

Ekphrastic. Ekphrasis or ecphrasis, from the Greek description of a work of art, possibly imaginary, produced as a rhetorical exercise, often used in the adjectival form ekphrastic, is a graphic, often dramatic, description of a visual work of art. In ancient times, it referred to a description of any thing, person, or experience.

elanji – bakul, moovandan –is a kind of mango, Maavu – mango tree

manjavalan kili – yellow feathered bird with long tail, thoppi thalachy – a small local bird with a crown

(I do not remember the English names of these birds, but I hope you may recognize them)

Author’s Postscript

 

Since I gave importance to the form, I would love to add few lines of Socrates here about this form:

In one instance, Socrates talks about ekphrasis to Phaedrus thus:

.
“You know, Phaedrus, that is the strange thing about writing, which makes it truly correspond to painting.
The painter’s products stand before us as though they were alive,
but if you question them, they maintain a most majestic silence.
It is the same with written words; they seem to talk
to you as if they were intelligent, but if you ask them anything
about what they say, from a desire to be instructed,
they go on telling you just the same thing forever”.

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