Friday, April 17, 2009


Brown Eyes

The baker said,I want brown.
Sin-steeped chocolate sauce,
Caramel crusty and burnt,
Cashew roasted to an infinite dark.

The painter said,
I want brown.
Raw umber, tempered
With a downy fawn and spiked
With shots of bronze.

The chef said,
I want brown.
The goo off the overdone sausage,
The edge from the cinnamon stick,
The fat from the greased
Old turkey.

The farmer said,
I want brown.
Early light glinting off the wheat
The patch between the calf’s little horns
Bushels ripe in silent wait
And twilight.

Then you opened your eyes
And all fell silent.

7 comments:

slow processor said...

Life in brown color made a good read..
I loved the farmer's brown a bit more over the rest of your browns..

Pramshanks said...

SP, yes, the farmer knows brown in many true shades. But as for me, those eyes will do fine, anytime!

riddhi said...

Spell Brown-d :) Perhaps, even brown tresses would have done the magic.. But, the eyes have it. As always a delightful read.

Sowmya said...

You are one hell of a poet!

Nirmala said...

hey Pramod, I enjoyed this thoroughly. The diversity in similarity or vice versa is a fascinating aspect of most of our lives...

Pramshanks said...

Sowmya, thanks... will keep trying. Nirmala, honestly what you said went a little over my head! Thanks a lot anyway!

survival by said...

really nice one ps!
loved it

killer