Hiatus

It has been a long time, that the sunset melted into my evening silence and I let the soft dark rein my qualms – as if, bracing dark is the answer
knowing, it is so not.

It has been a long time, that night trespassed into my glass of wine and I drank the moon – as if, my doors were open like never before, while
the fact is I grew a deaf to cacophony

In illusions, reality can be as profound as oceans
always returning back
the words I throw at them

Thus I return
to the belief
that there is no end to how much I can love you
but certainly many beginnings of how I tell them


Returning to poetry, after almost a year I guess. Linked to DversePoets, OpenLinkNight

The good bye train

The good-bye train
Oh! the good-bye train
You’re here~
& somehow, the world I know
is about to fade.

My home, my garden
My books, my violin
Can’t pack a life in a backpack now
Can we?

steam-engine-loco

Steaming, whistling
Smiling, jostling
You’re so ready
You lucky wheels
Roll your life
on the go – but really
how long can I run along?

Allow me a moment –
to say words I don’t mean
lament what I leave; put
questions on your wings
Why I’m so two minded today?

Good-bye train!
Oh! my good-bye train~
Past terrains, pastures and hills
We part, only to meet again~


Join me on my last Dverse Poetics prompt, as a host. Thank you.


Sporeling

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Ocean is not our distance
Silence is~
we fathom it
Yet we get nowhere

Possibilities asleep in seeds
We are
prisoners our
In our own fortress

A gift of light, warmth and rain
and we can be
As alive
As we want to be

Love is not our redemption
Togetherness
is a myth
Yet we soul search

All of us have those seeds
burried
inside,
Sporelings – they couldn’t be.


Join me on my Dversepoets OLN – come celebrate poetry.


Photo: Suman

Unto

11816174_10155939794430608_7546630364099130379_oPart of me instills the fear that one day
Ambling on the bank of plush green lake,
In lukewarm and sultry shadows
of banyan and peepal,
Would be my last, and
my footsteps on soft mud
smeared, overstepped.

Well, as much as disillusioned perpetual reality
Eternity may seem like,
Isn’t exactly what I nurture,
Standing in front of a wall
erected two hundred years ago,
Makes me fall in love
with my own wrinkles.

Adorned with jewels of
Dahlia, Bougainvillea or seasonal Marigolds
I float in silence of smell and
the fluttering of wings
Of sparrows, babblers, herons, mynas
Reminds me that one evening
I won’t be returning home with them.

Hooting of owls unnerve me
that my time has come,
which is when it hits me
fear is an important aphrodisiac
and I wake up with the hammering of woodpeckers.


Join me on my Poetics prompt on Dversepoets. Today I invite you to write about what connects you to where you were born and if you want to come back, as a tribute to the great poet – Jibananda.


Baccara

BaccaraThose who noticed, saw her beautiful hands
fingers long and supple
As brush, waiting for paints
Most didn’t see beyond eyes
cloud of messy hair
or misty coy glasses

Loneliness will become your problem, girl
said her mirror every day and
the fluffy rag doll-
that grew up with her;
she would look at it, tug it
but not play anymore

She drowned herself in music, adrift
never hum or tap her feet
to beats of her favourite songs,
No one could ever know she was singing inside
whenever she let out a silly blush,
They read shyness

No one heard her raise voice, let alone speak
Yet she SCREAMED
Deep within the chastity of agony,
deflowered at an age before boys
could bring her roses

Loneliness is the least of my problems‘,
she said to the mirror and the doll
every day,
before donning her mask –
Yet very few
Would see through through her semblance…


  • Joining Dversepoets Poetics after a long time where KB has us create persona. Join us to read some wonderful poetry.
  • Black¬†Baccara¬†is a wonderful and highly fragrant rose, chosen for its unique colour.
  • Illustration by Partha Mukherjee.

The waste we seek

Fill it with depravity of moss
And you will end up
creeping down
a slippery, deep well

Lit a fire, and you can
Be an inferno,
To sweep through
Anything, really.

A dewdrop of vitality
A heart of ocean
And a bleak canvas-
Born possibilities

yet, we fritter, and
probably will
Through the wavy ocean
Relentless~


Join me on my first OLN prompt this year on Dverse poets – a happy new year to all my readers.