Sky-Bird
Sky-Bird

To fly
Is to be
The infinite space

To rise
Into openness
The vast opens as I

My love of transparence
Fills me now
To flesh and marrow

The journey upon my breast
Enters each cell
As the journey within

Each horizon
My new home

Where stillness is flight
And skin porous as space
The seeking of flesh
To be light

A bird of thought
Behind each background
Secretly preening

The gyre of each dream
Ascending higher
To the Great Bird

Can each bird
Winging through my pen
Escape the tyranny of word?

The expanse of flight
Caught within
A secret winging

And space too
Is turned into
The thought of a bird

Pariksith Singh

Pariksith Singh is, first of all, a poet and a philosopher, though not of any academic mould. He has evolved, and is still evolving, his own philosophy of life and work which he has been articulating in terms of his very personalized poetry and equally personalized medical practice.

Whether healing a patient, running a business or writing a poem, Pariksith Singh is always looking for that “perfect expression of the spirit in matter” – and this is P. Singh’s unique and consistent signature in all his works.

P. Singh’s literature is the articulation of this “inner quest” for the spirit’s perfection in matter, and therefore an expression of the eternal struggle of form (matter) to attain the supreme fluidity of content (spirit) and content to attain the perfect expression in form.

Ouevre

Slowly we drift into shadows

Poetry by Pariksith Singh

Slowly we drift into shadows As twilight grows dun Selves of gray Disappear in the dark Our bodies buried Under their own Subliminal weight Slide into the murk In the...
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The Musical Structure of Four Quartets

Prose by Pariksith Singh

The Four Quartets is a masterpiece. It is Eliot at his maturest, though perhaps not necessarily best with each line. The great achievement of this poem, if one may call...
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Anthology

Casually

Poetry by Pariksith Singh

Casually Without importance Into this world arrive Without splitting Or choosing As if the breeze should steal Into the garden without a flutter Of leaves Arrive unannounced and leave Just...
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Voice

Poetry by Arwa Qutbuddin

Surreal this magical mess of being a woman riding high on passion and pain Swimming inside my liquid eyes this dream of a world Where softness is the new sacred...
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How do you make green?

Poetry by Bettina

In school they threw her out of painting class. She was useless at colours, she says. Her face is wrinkled now. Her frame has shrunk to the size of a...
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