Faces change over time grow up and move away But eyes? Eyes remain the same, windows to all that was. I think I see you cross the road our eyes meeting only for a second to move on, obscurity measured in a single glance. Maybe you too thought I was someone you knew from another…
Category: poetry
The poem I was writing
Died a senseless death The body waits In the crowded funeral homes For the rich In lime covered mass graves Of the poor Tortured and twisted In the agony of birth Breathless and blown By gathering storm clouds The cadaver awaits A decent burial.
I: Itinerant : The roads I take
On my way to work I often shut my eyes and in my mind I am on a road that does not race through a concrete jungle Where there are no buildings or the jostle of cars Where roads wind through mist ridden hills Lined with pine trees that rise above the clouds Curving through…
H: Hazard: This poem
I wrote no poem yesterday, The words dried up, constricting My throat, like the onset of a bad cold, A hacking cough and fever. Fever is a bad word now, Being sick is a colossal mistake. The cousin passed away last week No, it wasn’t the Novel Corona virus She had been suffering, and was…
E: Edges : Time
Time moves differently here, Slowly, sluggishly, lips clinging To the edge of the glass. Time weeps unshed tears here Fears that went unnoticed Bursting open scabs on the wounds Time laughs at mankind here Those who think they can divide us Do we not all bleed when hurt? Time sees our true selves here As…
In praise of women
Who is she? Who is she that shines at night Glittering, as upon a stage? Who is it that braves the crowds Every day on the local train? Who is the lady who hides a breast Under her sari as her child feeds? Who is the woman wildly reaching For the alms you throw at…
A: Amusical: Tone Deaf
I would give and arm and a leg To play the piano for you again. You would lie back on the sofa And my little fingers would pick out the tune. Alas my fingers are now too soft The notes just squiggly shapes Music beaten out of my life By choice, or was it compulsion?…
Timeline (photographs)
Scrolling through timelines I realise how we mentally compartmentalize Events in our head. Look at these pictures… That was the last dinner we went for together Here is the wedding the year after Ma died. See those are of the first vacation without her, This was the last holiday with Baba. It’s funny How the…
ipsita banerjee 