The Color Mélange

 

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Image source: eresaw.deviantart.com

In the dim light of the night
My window bleeds black, blue and grey.
The world, in the other end, a super-imposed medley.
My bare form, a silhouetted memoir, swooning slowly,
I lay, thickly drift, on the spears and barren thorns
Of my red. I descend upon the day’s end,
The red presses upon the bare night’s flesh,
A threat, an aberration, a desperation
Singing all alone, growing wild, and free.

My body breathes in vignettes and haikus
Trapped in cracked, ashen mirrors,
Red, the primordial burst screams,
Falters, dies out, slowly, surreptitiously.
Pink, the color of my labor, swelling,
Crashing against my womb,
Blue, the color of my dried up scars,
Scattered into dust; purple, the color of
The gaping hole where I thicken, and disintegrate.

In soft, little sips, the colors have floated around
Wicked lilies, pretty girls prancing,
Pining, tickling, toying around.
My window bleeds in the nameless darkness,
The rough silk of the night thumping, toxic, piercing.

The world in the other end burns slowly in the flames.
The colors, chiming, pirouette in the faint, flickering light.
I am loving the dead undone of my shringar
A dark brown, fading in the litter-laden night.

Copyright: Lopa Banerjee. March 17, 2015

 

A Woman I Am

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The woman, the mother and the daughter. Image source: http://www.stressreliefwizard.org

“Which of your roles you find central to your being ? Being a mom, or daughter, or teacher, or student, a professional or a homemaker, or anything else ? Write, and then write a poem too”.

This was a weekend writing prompt that one of my virtual friends, a poet/writer had initiated in an online writing forum in Facebook dedicated to women writers/poets and/or artists. Based on her beautiful weekend writing prompt, here is my humble attempt to define myself as the mother, the daughter. The umbilical cord, long severed physically, remains within us and reshapes our life, in ways more than one.

 

A Woman I am

(1)
The umbilical cord is bespattered
With blood, mucus and a chill of pain.
The child, first a foreign growth
And then, a mirror image of her own,
A wet, moving mass, is expelled
After spasms rushing out, gushing, in waves.
In laboring, birthing, in the pain
And bliss that returns,
The daughter becomes the mother,
The mother comes to the daughter in shared wound
At birth, both are united by a raw pain of separation.
A child with a descent line, sustained with
Her life-blood and love, fingers, nails, toes,
Eyes, ears, nose, lips, trailing after her.

                              (2)
A woman I am, the umbilical cord, the conjoined life
Of my mother and me, long dried up, severed
Yet a fire in my soul that illuminates my trails.
Walking barefoot, parched and reckless,
Swimming, moving, arms wide spread
In the lost tides of time,
The cord, long lost, pulls, tugs at my womanhood
In elemental wonder. The cord is the dance,
The merry-go-round and the preciousness of love
As I writhe in pain, longing.
I am gorging in smoke and flames
As the child is borne in beauty and pain.
I am the woman, the daughter and the mother
A little nursling, I squirm, thrash, snuffle
Am unbuttoned inside milky warmth.
A woman, a lustrous being, the miracle of birth
Latches onto my being, holds onto my seraphin wings.
A woman I am, the umbilical cord beckons me.

The Scarlet Rain: Celebrating Womanhood

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‘Femininity’. Image courtesy: Yogayomu.com

Feeling so happy, fulfilled and empowered from within, having completed my first poetry compilation of 60 pages, ‘All My Plain, Earthen Songs’. In this compilation, I attempt to present the image of the body in its various forms and manifestations, being a metaphor for both life and death. The poems in the collection are poems of the body, bruises and blood, words coming out of the strained ribs of our Mother Earth, words giving expression to the hollowness and inviting quiet of cities, landscapes and terrains in our dreams and waking. The poems also speak about the phenomenon of death, and the quiet, voiceless cessation that comes along with it. 

‘The Scarlet Rain’ is a poem which is a part of of this recently finished poetry compilation. It celebrates a woman’s body, the first shock of knowing about our menstrual cycle when we are very young, and the gradual surrendering and discovery of our body, our sexuality. It has been recently published by B’Khush.com in their section B’Creative, showcasing poetry and short stories written by women across the globe. To know more about my monthly column at B’Khush, and to read the entire poem, do visit:

http://bcreative.bkhush.com/dev/content/scattered-pearls-scarlet-rain