Girl On The Train Tracks

railway-line-3061202_960_720

Let my ripped dream, my lover and my battered heart alone.
I drag my body’s burden through the scarred edges of the platform
Where the last local train of the evening has blown
Its perennial whistle, and scurried past me,
When I stare at it, dazed, nursing my own wet borders.
Time, the blessed poets, as they see it in its winged chariot,
Is only the smashed whistle of the body of a disappearing train
That leaves me, fettered, looking around,
For the leftovers and chewed crumbs of the earth’s children
In the train station.
My lover guy, you have left your masculine musk
In the tracks, and I lose my body in those unnamed tracks,
In my scavenger hunt of that musk, all the while, in that living hell.
Here, I bury my body’s mass, and know not the blazing wants,
The carnal hunger that threatens to usurp my being.
This fierce onslaught burns me, shreds me into pieces,
I squeeze the pieces with my fists, stuff them into the pockets
Of my own silence, but my feet refuse to leave their imprints
In the worn-out tracks.
Have you ever walked by those frayed edges,
Smelt like coal and the rotten flesh of desires that graduate
In time, into placards in these lovelorn tracks?

Let my ripped dream, my lover and my battered heart alone.
I know this falling and peeling off, this hunting and burning
Will overpower me till the last platform I know, and then
You will find me, in smithereens.

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April: The Beginning of A Surrender

 

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April, don’t you know my charred flesh
longs to make love to you?
Come, plunge in the cauldron
where I am simmering, my vermilion,
My kohl, and my libido, bundled up
in a frothy, bleeding fairytale.

April, don’t you see me–twisted, exfoliated,
Blunt, broken, sharpened again,
And again, in your furtive jasmine glances?
Come, I am waiting, the venus of centuries
of want, the flora, fauna of my breasts
Eroding your volcanic rock, hissing, scrawling.

April, my ripe breath chases you, the slain deer
I reach out to you, a smooth arc, blindfolded,
I take you in, my skin, my musk, raining with you.
Come, my salt, my threadbare frame
My chaff and my grain
Are crumbling, into bits of you.

Metamorphosis: Poem published in READ FINGERS

Note: A poem reflecting on the estrangement of a couple in love, published today at READ FINGER Journal. Do read, comment and share:

Memories of hands clasped,

lips locked, tasting

The intoxication of contentment,

remembered, outlived.

Memories floating

in languid waters, the amplitude

and awe of picking pearls

and weeds, together

as the man and wife;

only an act of encoding, storing

and retaining a past

that no longer matters.

To read the full poem, do visit:

http://www.readfingers.com/portfolio-item/metamorphosis-by-lopa-bhattacharya/

The Mountain Refrains

A love poem I have written recently, based on a fictional narrative with the gorgeous, lush green mountain terrains of the Rockies in Boulder, Colorado as the backdrop. It is a pleasure to see this poem published at Learningandcreativity.com. Sharing excerpts from the poem:

Colorado Rockies

Image credit: Lopa Banerjee

“The leaves whisper, as if in an endearing trance,
the sweetest whistles of unfathomable love
rustle in the mountain bends,
the bends where the despairing lover boy
wistfully looks for the last glimpses of his lady love…
Did he find her?
Did he utter his last words to her
in the silken weave of the night’s lovelorn sky?”

Friends, do read the full poem here, and comment if possible:

http://learningandcreativity.com/the-mountain-refrains/#

Let the Night Sing

night

Image Source: Lifehacker.com.au

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shadows creeping,
The fangs of the night unfold,
Faint footsteps resound,
Silvery beams of moonlight.
The dark woods,
Dense canopy of trees,
The pitch black,
Skin slicing through
Silhouetted darkness.
Twinkling stars
Hissing sound,
Let the moon stay,
Let us make love.

Lopa. February 9, 2015