(translated from the original Bengali by Tuhin Sanyal)
REMAKE
The same old story
of the hunter and the prey.
Yet, no spine-chilling
adventure.
Coming out
of the comfort zone.
‘Remake’ is a mockery-mixed
dinner-table.
DEPRESSION
Wooden houses
and continuous days
of prose
are sub-water swims and chairs
laid near the fog,
watching the depression of clouds
forever
is in itself
a single scene.
BIRD AND FEATHER
One should know the...
Sandalwood
Some foundation, concealer
a little rouge
a subtle lipstick
her reflection disappoints
lines, hard earned, unwanted
her reflection smiles
it helps
She dusts and tidies
arranges
rearranges
old photographs
of ghosts
She lights a candle
sandalwood
she vacuums
and sweeps
she polishes
and primps
her home
herself
just in case
Two Scientists
I should be in work
instead, I sit in a Dublin café
tightly clutching a cup of tea
as if it might...
Introduction:
It takes guts to speak with artistes, especially poets. They are sensitive, they refuse to speak much about themselves (here I’m talking about old-time poets, the present clan is more vocal), and it is even more difficult to understand their mood and psyche. When I asked Nikita Parik, assistant...
True Self
Nameless stands with his back to the wall.
Desperate grappling of an unsettled mind.
Piercing screams emitting from some lost place.
Unsure of any fate, real or imagined.
Looking past a vague blackness,
slowly filling an empty jar on the shelf.
Cardboard dreams crumbling,
while paint peels off in layers of obscurity.
A disease of doubt...
Civil Guardsmen
From a field of grasses dried
by wind, two civil guardsmen stare
toward the sun for traffic
on the lonely road
they have been stationed to protect.
They are tall
against the burnt horizon,
still as the ground itself,
and one is the reflection of the other
as, side by side, they stand
in place. Should one
turn around,...
suicide
paula’s weak moment
leaving me early
sad lonely feeling
nightly she returns
softly whispering
her lost love
still in my heart
bliss
alone in library
empty used bookstore
roaming shelves
sacred experience
like attending church
feeling hopeful promise
quietly turning pages
becoming dreamer again
freedom
waking to birdsong
before first light
building small fire
boiling water from stream
instant coffee
oats in tin cup
ready for journey
picking way over deadfall
brushing aside cobwebs
escaping...
The Removal of Sin in a World Without Sin
Turning once again toward the sea,
strong arms move my head
to look at the land instead,
a desert landscape beige, bland
sand the monotonous menu
for my eyes that have seen it all before.
Defiant, I turn to feast on the wild water,
currents pushing the shore...
Malini Mukherjee
Dear Maliwan,
I was wondering if I should write ‘Dear’ against your name. It is, in our culture, customary to write Dear only to someone who is endeared to you. I don’t even know you. You don’t know me either. Yet I am writing this letter because we had...
Nikita Parik
Caked in mud
caged in faith
prayers keep me alive
108 names but
I recognize none
(“Devi 2.0”)
The binaries of personal and public must be subverted when seemingly personal concerns voiced through personal expressions transcend to achieve a universality of sorts. In her debut poetry book, Apostrophe, Barnali Ray Shukla’s versification of seemingly...
GRANDFATHER
You remember more of what is no more.
Past steps into your bedroom and your grandson
becomes your newly born. You love to address
him as Baba – this is how you called your first born.
The present blurred and faceless has no challenges
for you. Your face perks up and breaks into...
Katacha Díaz
Catching the last rays of sunshine on a lovely warm spring afternoon, Tim and I sat on our patio listening to the sounds of smooth Latin jazz floating through the air, and watched hummingbirds as they gracefully danced around bushes and wildflowers, sipping water from the fountain in...
Terry Sanville
1.
On Friday morning, Dad took Shasta, our shorthaired terrier with a white-tipped tail, to the vet. I didn’t even know the poor dog was sick. At seven, I didn’t understand illness and suffering. But my older sister, Betty, seemed to know. She waited with me in the living...