The Tale of Four Pegs & Other Poems : A poetry review

The Tale of Four Pegs & Other Poems is the debut poetry compilation from Anand Haridas, a journalist turned writer based in Kochi, India. The poet is a friend of a friend. Two degrees of separation, not distant enough to divert incoming friendly fire after a scathing review that I had in mind.

The book is available on Amazon. You can buy it here and I won't get any commission from the sales.

I do not have any idea how to do a poetry book review. I ended up going through each poem and composing my own new poem stringing together my take on each - few words or a line per poem. It seemed to be the only way to do justice to a versified creation. Although if you have not read the book the review below would not make any sense to you.

Here goes,

We get a peek into your think pad, it is honest and clear, though at certain places

metaphors are muddled or similes reckless, you could have taken out the traces

of construction equipment – conjunctions, explanations crowd your unpretentious core

diluting the profound and the mindful down to just another garden-variety heart-sore.

We partake in your pegs¹, the fourth as you had predicted shows a sapient promise

traveling from you to you, we stop at the traffic light caught in the night rain’s fuss²

run over by a wagon train of your thoughts, in a deluge of imagery laden droplets

a few-thousands-more-than-needed hoofed histories, albeit all well framed surrogates.

You give us a lift on your bike,³ your glasses accidentally misplaced,⁶ no worries, forgettable

is the scenery if not for the mongrel and the shawl wrapped figure.³ The bonsai is noble⁴ 

for a tree stunted, lonely and lost, finding its way through the symbolism of your words

nonetheless we lose our bearings on a bridge to nowhere⁵ where a fog of memories girds

your night. Fatigued we take the last flight on the wings of your migratory books,⁷ the ride

up, unexpectedly unusual,⁹ wormholes into Che’s OBE hovering over your death side⁹

where surreal verses sideswipe with singular views,³ you’re reborn in a tearful glass of wine¹⁰

we meet your muse and the sailor’s mermaid at the ship wrecking yard,¹¹ as if by design

the sailor is at sea (still) stateless¹¹, short on memories the forgetful lighthouse beacon

beams a glassy-eyed calm,¹¹ unsure whether we can handle another reincarnation season

we get shimmered in your monsoon pale, sunny raindrops pelt glitter - dramatic¹²

not so the scantily scaffolded summer splintering flecks of winter,¹² they’re radio static.

Smoke rings taunting death pass us by incognito,¹³ on their way to meet your demons¹⁴

we recede silent to make room for your vapory journey, yellow meteorites even wee ones¹⁵

can’t beguile us back, we team up to enumerate the foliage, with your pied piper traveler,¹⁶

to be preserved for after, much after the ambulances are done collecting fare from the maker¹⁷

on the home stretch, the gutted nest is mournfully moving,¹⁸ the blue god’s ominous dance

paints anticipation,¹⁹ broken reeds and spoken Nos²⁰ leave us without any redeemable chance

at a befuddled bank where grounded boats wait for ferries²¹ to take them to light (for real?)

let the unease gush, wounds scale healing word wines, do a twice-over, heart the unheal.

Notes:

• the part of the poems I liked are italicized; 
• reference to the poems are denoted by numbers,^superscript their order as in the table of content;