You know, last year at the Austin International Poetry Festival I met some wonderful and talented people. I got lucky and they added me to a secret group where we discuss our work, bandy around with words and generally have an interesting time. Apart from the few people I have actually had the pleasure to…
Tag: poetry
Just because I am quiet.
My father was forged with fire, if he saw injustice he fought it through he walked on burning coals and argued for causes by the time it was passed to me the fire had quietened. I do not rage against dark nights my nature is more amenable, even selfish I like to stay out of…
Welcome 2017!
Sometimes I think I will surely throw myself off these walls that blind my soul. Sometimes I search for that lone song that adorns my house and makes it home. Sometimes I walk by the salt sea spray and wonder at footprints long gone away. But most times, I’m only me trying to prove…
A Sunday evening walk in the city
The sidewalks are taken by hawkers brewing pakoras and tea the smell of smoke cigarettes, kerosene, open fires, the smog of tiredness like a dirty chadar on the hands of the beggar lady forever turned upwards. Petrol fumes… of course how could I miss that? “take shallow breaths,” I tell myself, as a horn blares in…
Minto Park at dawn (from BVC)
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…
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…
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…
ipsita banerjee 