ipsita banerjee

G: Ghosts

dreams die young cascading into dawn as thin wisps of morning slip through my fingers ghosts of the past

I have drunk enough of the night to lie awake as dawn creeps in as the fragrance of your breath and the soft lilt of your voice curl their fingers through my hair at the crossroad where our paths once merged in the scent of the setting moon in the song of dawn. The…

E: Empty

It is dark, I reach for the light switch and find it does not work. I have the key in my hand. I fumble for the lock, open the door and enter. It is just as I expected, the furniture arranged neatly, the summer night fragrant and the curtains billowing in the wind. I smile…

D: Diamante

daydream surreal secretive cleaving crowding craving awake amorous adamant arduous clawing caterwauling crying servile silent delusion

C: Curled

The lazy finger of dawn curls my hair and brushes against my face and I am back on a fog ridden road from long ago….when you walked on ahead leaving my hand still curled around yours clutching to the warmth of your fingers. Your footsteps faded and became still your voice spoke only in…

B: Black

Black is my colour black is my night black is the ink with which I write words that keep you near words that keep you alive black is the grief I cling to black is my white.

A: alchemy

at night, uncontrolled your fingers close over mine darkness turns to gold. #haiku

Poetry

This is the first time I’m entering this blog in the April A2Z Challenge.. and it’s time for the theme reveal. I do not write poetry poetry writes me. I steal it from the wind that rustles my thoughts from the canvas that teases my soul I snatch it from the morning mist open…

The Quilt

I brought myself a bolt of cloth made of the gentlest words wrapped it in folds of warmth and hemmed the sides with love I sewed in some heartaches and tears to make it strong and embroidered the body with kantha stitches of loss This is the quilt I weave for you for when…

at night

at night my thoughts grow teeth sprout wings and emerge to preen they collide and crash slow dancing me into one bloodthirsty scream tangle and fall apart tooth-marks on my shoulder rendering sleep a distant dream.

One little thing

without you morning walkers at the Lakes would be arrested for jay-walking without you every stranger on the road would be guilty of stalking without you the kosha-mangsho I make would lose all its zing without you even the stars would not have a song to sing without you faces would stare out of my…

Presence

Your eyes follow me rather sternly in the Bar Library where I sit quietly from where your picture now hangs, your absence has been made present. I can pretend the half smile I see playing about your lips the gold of your voice that I hear ringing in my ears aren’t just fragments of…