“What do you see in the same old moon, full of the stale stench of sweat and gloom, surrounded by the unhealthy halo of bitterness it’s unable to outgrow? Look at it,”you laugh, “swimming naked in the dark, vain and unperturbed by your silly emotions, your thoughts… indifferent, even calloused, like a rotting roti hung to dry…
Tag: poem
The welcome.
The clouds brushed my face hungrily as I sat nose pressed against the tiny window pane of that plane bringing me to Goa. The wisps of white leapt and played, snapped at my heels and merged with the greys: forming un-forming…sunlight so blinding like packs of wolves howling at the sky like the stray dogs…
YOU, again.
Like a jar of perfume left open it’s fragrance escaping into the night your memory caresses my thoughts brushes my cheek gentle as the sweet summer breeze even as I erase you from my days
Fallen leaves
My day lies scattered about like fallen autumn leaves harried and harassed, I look about me. The button I forgot to sew back on, that school skirt that has to be hemmed because it is too long. The draft that awaits correction the piled files to be read, the chicken sweats in the kitchen waiting…
Elusive
The road winds its way through soft whispers of cashmere the mist swirls and fades struggling to catch up with you.. Smiling, you turn the corner.
Z: ZEN
the pond lies silent sleeping in the morning sun diving into its clear depths i find myself at peace my work on dusty earth is done.. silence follows me as i slice through the water swimming to the murky floor rays of light surround me my work on the parched earth is done.
Y: YOU, yes, you!
Did I tell you I love you? Then this poem’s not for you. Shut the door as you leave, don’t bother to say adieu. Did I tell you I love you? Almost? How stupid am I! I see. I did love you, or I think I did till sense got a hold of me. Did…
X: X-RAY Vision
As a mother to two irrepressible teenagers, I sometimes wonder how I got this far. Was it the x-ray vision I claimed I had or was it the Mommy special extra eyes I carried at the back of my head? What gives a mother her survival skills? The ability to cope, when all she wants…
W: Wants
i want to run to leap into your arms as you envelop me in the warmth of your hug brushing my tears away i want to walk in the rain splash in the puddles get soaked to the skin and not remember that you are dead.
T: Testimony
Your portrait now adorns the wall your presence has been made present only the corridors where you once walked and my heart (always this heart) bears testimony of your absence.
S: Shroud
I wrote myself a song I wove myself a cloth warm and soft, made of compromise and lies. I’ll howl at your grave when the moon is full I’ll drape the shroud ‘round me and dance with you once more.
P: Phone call
I rise. The house is sleeping. In the dark I go to the corner of the room where the battered old trunk lies forgotten. As quietly as possible, I undo the latch and creak the lid open. The smell of naphthalene and dried neem leaves fill the air. Softly, softly… I move the old newspapers…
ipsita banerjee 