Cadence
Imagine there is a giant screen
showing every word, every letter,
every odd even fault lines, inverted moon
a rock, a wonder of stars linking
the method to the madness.
All eyes walk towards the horizon
wilderness calms under the blue vastness
striving to free the colours from the hibiscus.
His voice is a touch from a distance
with footsteps that will like to plant
shingles and spores in cadence.
I need the change; I pray for it now.
I dive into the winsome
blue body of a summer
morning,
I touch gently to others
who are hairless, eyeless, mute
standing in the corridors
with other shadows alongside.
The night does not see anything,
but in this brightness of saliva,
all of us leaving behind
incomplete prayers,
our shells break in stroke after stroke,
under the sign
of water, our children enter the sanctum.
Ancient Script
Now solitude flares in silence
You must speak to it,
only the drowsiness that ties your shoe,
that raises its head
know I am aging faster,
The train rattles into dusk
how to go on until tomorrow?
Nothing touches me
I often lose all desires
on the street,
Is it me dreaming at its own pace?
sunrays often slash the shadows
Is it myself I leave behind
in an ancient, torn script?
Dyad
1.
In the wide-open field
the stars rest on my shoulder,
the immense vista of silence
between the lines,
waits at the edge of the sleep,
each moment is a quiet recollection,
the moonless night is so complete in itself.
2.
A crescent of rock-framed sands
washed by arcs of blue water,
I do not know
how to speak before
my own silhouettes,
I only learn to sit and condense,
clouds bow down to touch the earth,
Resistance
The sky is in all its openness,
the twist of the funnel cloud is in
a cusp of disappearing in twilight,
the face of the sun appears to blush in a
sense that something revealing may take place.
I sit on the bench in the children’s park,
the words are grouping together in my head.
Are they band of resistance or finding ways
of escaping to the no man’s land?
I can’t stop them from fleeing.
I close my palms with the caress of a lover,
this imagined presence of absence is intense.
Before something starts or ends,
I know I will forget everything in the sleep.
Gopal Lahiri is
a bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer and translator with 29 books
published, including eight solo/jointly edited books. His poetry is also published
across various anthologies as well as in eminent journals of India and abroad.
His poems are translated in 16 languages. He has been
nominated for Pushcart Prize for poetry in 2021. He is the recipient of
the Poet of the Year Award in Destiny Poets, UK, 2016, Setu
Excellence Award, 2020, Pittsburgh, US and Indology Life-Time
Achievement award, West Bengal, India. His latest collection of poems ‘Alleys
are Filled with Future Alphabets.’ has received wide acclaim.
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