A poem of Prathibha Nandakumar, and my poem
The Tigress
He is the animal trainer
makes even the fiercest of fierce animals
crawl, jump, stand on hind legs
just by the crack of his whip.
He puts his head between
the dangerous teeth of the tiger
pats his appreciation
waits in anticipation
of applause.
This tigress
that roamed the deep jungle,
terror of the forest,
now sits cross-legged in front of him.
Is she a tigress or what?
Someone once asked her about it.
She just smiled and brought out
her long sharp nails
hidden well under her paws
and scratched her head.
~Prathibha Nandakumar
***
she thought for a moment
and if further provoked,
could have clawed
his jugulars and devoured his
head deep down her gullet.
but it was love
she gave birth to the trainer.
it was love
she performed for the trainer.
she’s a tigress
but she lives for love.
~Ravi Kopra
He is the animal trainer
makes even the fiercest of fierce animals
crawl, jump, stand on hind legs
just by the crack of his whip.
He puts his head between
the dangerous teeth of the tiger
pats his appreciation
waits in anticipation
of applause.
This tigress
that roamed the deep jungle,
terror of the forest,
now sits cross-legged in front of him.
Is she a tigress or what?
Someone once asked her about it.
She just smiled and brought out
her long sharp nails
hidden well under her paws
and scratched her head.
~Prathibha Nandakumar
***
she thought for a moment
and if further provoked,
could have clawed
his jugulars and devoured his
head deep down her gullet.
but it was love
she gave birth to the trainer.
it was love
she performed for the trainer.
she’s a tigress
but she lives for love.
~Ravi Kopra
posted by Ravi Kopra at 11:24 AM
7 Comments:
ravi
that was interesting. are you threatened by her strength that you rush to say that all is well? because what you have written is what is taken for granted in the poem. it could be love or habit or simple acceptence of the situation or even the inevitability. A friend of mine, a poet and an actress, does a brilliant dramatic presentation of this poem.
all is well that ends well
all is well when it's love
no threats
no habits
no menaces
no circumstances
no strengths
no weaknesses
no inevitability
no destiny
no nothing
but love, pure love
and one day,
she couldn't take
his whips no more.
as loving as she was,
but whips for love!
no, no more.
she sank her teeth
a little in his head.
who said love come first
and then comes self?
that one must lose
one's self for love?
man is manipulative.
he can break the will
of even beasts to lose
freedom for dependence.
what about women?
what about nations?
it's not love
it's not love lost
it's the conquest of
master over his slave
be it a beast
be it a woman
be it a man
be it a nation
what some call
unconditional love
what some call
devotion in love
is not unconditional
nor is devotional
we love no one
we love ourselves
she can devour
the trainer's head
she doesn't
he has broken her will
he isn't threatened by her
he has made her his slave
she has no love for him
only broken will. she needs
him now for her survival
taking abuse of his whips
her raw prowess now no
match for his intelligence
his power is her God
our fear is our God
nothing is to be taken for granted
nothing is to be taken on surface
dig deep below the surface
worms crawl there everywhere
what first appears to be unique
could be anything on inspection
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