Feb 8, 2011

3.1. Abhimanyu Kumar Singh: 3 poems

A minor

Evening comes
Like a mild depression;
Almost looked forward to.

The sun sets
With the dignity
Of a prize fighter
Going down.

The bruised cheek
Of the Sky.

Give me
A minor key
To sing in
Any day.

Some day, I will
Be the moon.

Photo by: Rose Carson

Reading the papers in the early afternoon, with no definite plans for the day


I want a passage
To the end of the world
Through a dead man's eye.

A smile, frozen forever;
Death is a photograph.


Old friend blues
She got new shoes

A song
In the key of E

A girl
(with whom) to commit


How much is a

Is there a formula
To calculate
The gross grief
Of a people?


I want to see no-body. No, not even
The grocer; especially not the grocer.

I want to postpone everything
Till kingdom comes.

I have had holy visitations
And terrible hallucinations.

The only way to resolve this
Is through a duel but I have no courage.


Cool as a coup-de-etat
I walk down the road;
Immortal, like a speck
Of dust shining true
In the diminishing light.

Photo by: Rose Carson



Holy Mother of God, my cock
Is tingling with urine. I will
Piss in the dustbin – too wasted
For the trip to the loo.
I do.
I piss, therefore I am.


Tonight, we are both besides the dead:
You - near Manikarnika Ghat
And I, in a cemetery,
Behind the 'world' famous
Dargah with a man
Whose name I don't know,
Smoking grass filled in
Charminar cigarettes.
He wants nothing from me
Except company.


Naked, I read Naked Poetry;
Yesterday, I read America
To a young American.


Everyday someone dies.
A friend's father,
Another's close acquaintances,
Five of them in a car crash,
A little girl on the street
In a bus accident today.
I was once offered a passage
To the land of the dead
But didn’t feel up to it.


Mad, mad, mad
In a seedy hotel room,
I have lost the receipt
Of the advance I'd paid,
I must not get laid
And read Edward Said more.


No girls anyway in the lodge
Nor at the local working class bar – filled
With butchers, goldsmiths
And lorry drivers.

The bar attendant
Wants to go to America.
"America is waka", he says,
Limping as usual as he clears the table,
"American girls sexy", he adds; I am glad
Robert is not around.


Jealousy stings the heart
Like naked burning coal.
No success is pleasant
Unless it is your own.

Abhimanyu Kumar Singh is an Indian national, 28 years old. He has a degree in Spanish language and literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi. He has worked as a cultural correspondent for The Hindu and freelanced for other publications. At present he is attending a course on political reporting from the Indian Institute of Journalism and New Media, Bangalore. He has also dabbled in film and theater, played music professionally and organised poetry readings.


  1. Beat poet?!

    God. Really?

    "Cool as a coup-de-etat
    I walk down the road;
    Immortal, like a speck
    Of dust shining true
    In the diminishing light."

    That's just a man trying too hard to sound like someone else.

  2. Lovely poems. I read them again today- G