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

The Future of Indian Poetry

Prose by Pariksith Singh

Indian poetry in English is flat. There is no depth. This was my impression when I read some anthologies edited by Pritish Nandy few decades ago. This remains my impression...
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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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A Crack in Time

Prose by Pariksith Singh

Call me Roxie. I am the rock that can see. It seems I am unlike other rocks. I am the only one who can speak. But it almost appears to...
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Anthology

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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Perhaps

Poetry by Arwa Qutbuddin

Perhaps we need to shatter and scatter so that we may trace our way back inward slowly – breath by breath – into the wholeness of existence And as we...
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The Grand Mystique

Poetry by Cheryl Cobern Browne

… A Visual Poetry…
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