Monday, November 30, 2015

Confession 1

I’d lust upon the words
That cannot describe you,
For they are honest
Than those who claim
You belong to this world.

In a quest to write the best
I’d pull you in every time,
And let the beast inside write;
I’ve never tried to be a good man
Just the words turned out honest.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

I've been a rose

I've been a rose, gently touching her navel
And slip down to her knee and her feet
And eventually be crushed;
I'd bloom again to start from her lips.
She would enjoy my thorns pricking her
And let every inch fill in the pours on her skin,
Dripping blood reddened me over again
As I smiled back as fresh as a new one.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Friday, November 20, 2015

Pablo, time goes on while you write

Nights when words seem blasphemous
And the wine drips down her cleavage,
Your tongue agonize restlessly
And sing the blues as an ode.
The sky fills up to the brim with wine
And draws the rainbow, while you
Still hallucinate over nothing;
You weep for the stars being afar.
The darker world prefers solitude
The pomp and melody derails you,
Your eyes seem drunk with images;
Pablo, time goes on while you write.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Nishtha's Diwali Blues

Nishtha, sad;
Sat alone on Diwali night
While listening to her friends
Giggling and dancing in the garden.
Her door was closed while Mojo
Crept under the bed;
She wasn’t alone.
Victims of the previous years
Both wept their miseries to the Goddess,
While listening to the blurred sound
Of the dumb bombs outside;
Through the shut window pane.
Last year the festival of lights,
And fire, and noise, and pain
Left the girl deaf;
Listening to her own woven blues
The scenes she drew from the past.

©Chandrajit Mitra