Poem

Surabhi Bhattacharjee

ETHNIC SCENT OF DISTANT BOKUL


Smoking cups of cappuccino
feeding with
golden ear rings
and
a diamond nose pin.

I see
red rings
with smiling promise
of red dust
silk and blood
under the serpent’s hiss...

Love take care
don’t forget
you are going out for first time,,,,

‘’ ethnic scent of distant bokul’’.

under the wall of inky sky
honey bees drunk it
yellow blossoms.

*bokul ----a name of flower in India (West Bengal)


SUNDAY LETTERS


L
ying under blank face of life
my words rolls round upon my finger tips
now i stumble in my blank page
where yellow dairy notes whisper
my Sunday letters.
Feathers of summer syllables
dance upon,overwhelming silence of mine 

The emptiness of beggar’s bowls
is heard once more.



In next room,women travel-led
long road between,loving and not loving
that news goes,round of a million tongues.

And today i think,a half smile on my lips
words that escaping the cave,of mouth like twittering birds
shake their wings,on a window roof.

In a lazy Sunday
A squirrel sitting on a tree
Goat balancing itself on its two feet
Parrot upside down on a branch nibbling at fruits
my father’s voice,echoing wearily from,corner of room.

  
And you  began smiling,once again upon me
on my own,
Testimonies
Anxieties,
and 
 
Sorrows.



A ROOM


Inside------------

A woman sweeps,another knitting
twenty watt bulb shine in veranda
I myself live in one
leaning against sofa

Mother keeps the kitchen,makes tea

four empty cup on a try

trickling sound of tea being poured.
The washer man and watch man
sip their tea with Lemon
country ,landscape ,memory,anguish
full of cancel words
and large handwriting
searching for
saddest songs.


Outside ----------------

Wind ,light, rain revolve
a heavy tree bent their necks

each leaf nurture a rain -drop
Ants are travelling by hidden routes
under the sleeping earth.
On the  silver  line of  day
one end,  sun is half way down
other side, clear moon shining high.


Two eyes dividing a single face 

in my solitary rhyme.


DIFFERENT CATCH IN VOICE

A load

of

passionate silence

with

different catch in voice,

Rain,Road,liquid mud

squelching

between

toes and anklet.

Cart-tracks ,water pools

full of criss-crossing lines too____

In that moment

i could feel

the sudden hollowness

of my looks.

Old diaries,

street corner tea shops,

red round tomatoes

Kafka , Camus

scary images

slowly fading away.

And

I fetch water

for my

kitchen

plucking out words

from air

I write ,

a

thank- ---u -----note

To,my

relatives,friends, neighbors

on their

resourceful

courageous

intensely

sorrowful

practical

nature.............