If I look hard enough I see you striding along the path your denim shorts and white shirt striking among a sea of walkers. As your pace quickens, I fall behind till you come back around. I toy with a stone watch the crows flapping about. Early birds and all that jazz, isn’t that what you told…
Category: Uncategorized
The moon knows
the moon hides not the ravenous drooling of the malevolent dark the moon shies not from the claws at her face that found their mark the moon only waits waxing and waning naked and stark watching lest our souls are consumed by night’s hard casque for the moon knows only the moon knows that the…
The five senses
Winter came early this year. Across the city comes the smell of smoke and naphthalene as boys light fires and sweaters shake themselves out of trunks. The moon swims among the clouds as I walk the empty streets, the pavement dwellers are gone, they huddle behind doors deep inside the narrow streets where moonlight never…
Book Review: The Traveller Series
Tiffany Teoh’s book, “The Traveller Series… in forty-one poems”, is, in many ways, a traveller’s diary in verse. No, it does not give you specific dates or locations, but it is filled with beautiful images of nature and lines that are thought provoking. Many a time as I read this collection of poems, I found…
“Life is for the living.”
“Life is for the living,” my father used to say. I never really understood what he meant. Oh, I was familiar with death. I was never shielded from it and as a young teen, often accompanied my father on his occasional trips to the crematorium or graveyard. Later, on the way home, I would I…
Rituals
Tired of reality I search in verse for words that falter bend and break untouched by years of quiet acquiescence. I return purified. In wanton disobedience.
The festival of lights (Diwali)
You go about bursting crackers, heedless of the swirling smoke you laugh at what you cannot dispel oh once, won’t you look? …into the longing eyes of the homeless child who stares at that whirling disc of light, his clothes are torn, his fingers worn from the bricks he carried high on his head…
The wedding
The veil is lifted a shy bride waits a hint of a blush a prelude to the day The guests are waiting the groom strides in a processional overture let the ceremonies begin. A whispered prayer an union of eternal souls whispers of ‘forever’ the recessional explodes. The guests scatter in the wind soothed for…
lady
This lady stalks the skies tonight masked by the wail of creatures pretending to be human. Bury yourself in a scrapbook. Quick, before she makes you hers and hers alone.
Two words for Vaishali
Can two words ever be enough for a friend who taught me the art of taking myself less seriously, turned life on its head, and made me laugh at everything! The friend who filled my world with fresh pots of paint colours I never knew existed bled my grey skies into sunshine again and again….
ipsita banerjee 