Protest

 

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-

 

 

Posted for earthweal weekly challenge : PROTEST IN A TIME OF PANDEMIC hosted by Sherry

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

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

dolphin-story_647_122917102127_0

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