I am shut up
in a room of fear-
I sit with a muted howl-
should I choose
a deadly cyclone
to be the soul
of my words-
or should I be the silent witness
and watch
how this fake human world
glass-breaks on its own-
Love Was Our Home Once
Neither you nor I can escape
this nightmare of sinking love-
haven’t our moon words turned
charcoal-gray long ago?
we had grown crevices in them
with faithful self-love without the least
thought of the solace of light-
dreams that once were, are now
headstones of hills-
we are no more homesick-
it’s time to
rest in peace-
Posted for Carrie’s picture prompt @ Sunday Muse #94
Spring
In between glum sky
And dewy eyed, listless Earth
My tulip dreams spread-
Grief is the shadowy hill
The sole silent onlooker-
[This poem is from a 2016 list]
Posted for earthweal open link weekend #6
The Ganges
(A Death Is Needed For A Renewal)
Seeing you this much mutilated
I can no more contain my sorrow-
it spreads as would a wildfire
riding a wind of its own-
the haunting voices of all
that is green, feathered, scaled
beside or within you
sing the apocalypse-
monal river,
you let your turquoise water feathers
to be ashen sewers,
though it’s a story of salty boundlessness in the end-
I am now convinced
you were always a woman
with the heart of Manikarnika,
treading the path to be a phoenix-
Posted for earthweal weekly challenge : RENEWAL
Key
When I am locked up
among people who are all
either a closed door or a window-
the sky of my loved one’s face
is missing even when I lie down
looking up-
my pathway is a long, dark, almost infinite wall
of sad moments-
my heart, ribcage, bosom slowly darkening
into a burnt landscape-
I never despair-
for my raven world
has become my key-
to set me free-
Posted for Carrie’s picture prompt @ Sunday Muse #93
& also sharing with earthweal open link weekend #5
Bidding Adieu to Shushuks
GOOGLE IMAGE
Standing in the loin deep water
Of the sacred Ganga*
I’ll take a holy dip-
No-
Not in the name of my ancestors-
No
Not for remission of my sins-
But to say
My prayers
For
The gentle Shushuks**
Who are feebly
Leaving your miracle waters
To become
A still word,
A mere photo-
In print-
*The Ganges
[**Shushuks are the Gangetic River Dolphins, an obligatory freshwater species, born blind and are facing yet another anthropogenic threat.]
https://youtu.be/M5dbBrNVHkU
Posted for Sherry’s prompt ~ The Animals of Climate Change @ earthweal
A Crude Someone
A crude someone is anchored
to his wasteland
where root his speaking-trees
leafless and haggard-
he let his mind to be
an intolerant, blazing sky-
and his love to be a gravel ground
to burn your feet-
his day-blind eyes cannot see
the door opening out
where grace and gentleness lie-
Posted for Sunday Muse #92 hosted by Carrie
This poem is a river, a man and a forest
This poem is the wrath of a river
This poem is the dream of a man
This poem is the story of a forest
This poem is Brahmaputra
Its hungry tide laps up land
Crashing, breaking dreams
Before reaching its salty home
It tears itself to countless streams
Taking the look of torn roots
Of a gigantic banyan tree
This poem is the wrath of a river
This poem is Jadav Payeng
He is a forestry worker
Living in Majuli Island by the Brahmaputra
The broken nests light a star
In his inner sky
He becomes his own light
And prays for a woodland to take birth
This poem is the dream of a man
This poem is Molai Forest
Each tree loves a man
Who single handedly
For more than three decades
Created this tree-land
That’s harboring wild life
And fortifying the island
This poem is the story of a forest
This poem is the flow of tamed anger of a river
This poem is the fulfillment of the deep green dream of a man
This poem is the song of the wild in an unusual forest
[I intended to post this old poem for the “Water” prompt but couldn’t manage as became a bit busy this week. So now.]
Posted for earthweal open link weekend #4earthweal open link weekend #4
A Mother’s Lament
I thought I was
your rural landscape, your sanctuary-
to my dried up branches,
you’ve tied glassy words
with an evil of their own-
the world hears
sweet tinkling and jingling
of their sound-
yet deep inside
their torque twists my sinews-
my failed leaves sigh-
I am so burnt up-
can I be your home again-
like this burnt up earth
I am forever athirst
for
love-
Posted for Fireblossom’s picture prompt @ Sunday Muse #91
&
Also shared with earthweal open link weekend #3
Bring Them back
When high-rises loom
like apparitions
house sparrows become
shadows and dream-
my ears thirst for their chirps
eyes for a glimpse
of this passerine bird-
twigs and straw are my words-
this poem an empty nest-
is this how the sparrows end-
[Factors leading to the decline of house sparrows are; rapidly changing cities that are inhabitable for the bird species, modern infrastructure that does not account for space for the sparrow to nest, and the sharp rise in pollution levels, caused by microwave towers and pesticides. In my hometown, Balurghat, West Bengal a house sparrow is a rarity. I can’t remember when I last saw one]
Posted for earthweal weekly challenge: Ghosts
