asamvav111

Your mirrors and rugs and rains and horses deserve their own books, more treats thrown & even forgotten deities who watch over food bowls will rejoice in their cadence. Thank you for sharing.

"I am dust behind your steps Forgotten as you move on I no longer care, as you do not. Walk away" A Stunning Diamond!

"Monsters hide at every turn Under beds and behind the door Run, now, don’t look back If you see - then you’ll believe Once you know, there is no hope I don’t want to go bed It keeps chewing chewing All day long its in my head I close my eyes and see it chewing chewing chewing" Stars of my knight pale at the brilliance of the morning sun at peace yet contrite but no longer at war with himself arrive at his final repose

Do not waste that waist! Wonderful poem cuts hard myths of happiness.

Amazing!

The poet you seek is John Keats. This poem is an inverse of his Ode to Nightingale and mimics the progression of The Fall of Hyperion. There are also references to his philosophy of Mansion of Many Apartments. All together it is an homage to Keats & his creations.

Eh... Sorry to sound so pedantic. I was just expressing my opinions on the matter & got carried away, I guess.

When I write in English, I write in my native tongue, for English has become Indian the same way Farsi has become Indian. Even then, there are a lot of constructs in my writing that may seem too obscure to an Englishman. In any case, English is the "foreign" language that I mostly write in. My own mother tongue Bangla is actually the second language I wrote poetry in. I am blessed with the fact that I was born in India, a country with thousands and thousands of years of history of multitude of languages & literary achievements. Bangla itself has a history that span twelve hundred years, and due to the fact that the English had made Bengal their seat for power for most of their reign and also the numerous small encampments of hosts of various East India Companies, Bangla has been exposed to all major European Cultures and their literary devices. It has the biggest number of loan words from the different European languages, amongst all the Indian languages. In the late nineteenth century during the Bengali Renaissance, a lot of the known western forms of poetry were introduced to Bangla. Thus, reading a sonnet or a free verse, a limerick or a rhyme etc etc in Bangla is an ordinary occurrence. Growing up I was exposed to all this, from the mystical orientalism of Sanskrit to the diverse occidentalism of Bangla, all the while being fine tuned to the songs of the soil. And how can I forget English, my first love, my muse! I do feel a significant change of tone while writing in either of the languages. However, I unconsciously have introduced, on a number of occasions, certain intonations that bear a more subtle expression for the native reader, all the while being an excursion for the other, and vice versa. I believe a veil is necessary to guard the heart of the poetry. And such a delicate veil is only possible by introduction of exotic loan words that may seem over-indulgent to the bystander. A good example of this is the use of the word "Jatamansi" in the AC Benus translation above. I don't suppose a lot of us knew the meaning of this or how it relates to the poem before googling it. And the beauty of it lies in that veil of mystery. What a beautiful gem it is! Thus, as a bilingual poet and multilingual reader I believe strongly in the different expressionism of different languages, that results into the various efficiency and inefficiency of capturing a certain human emotion or experience by a poet irrespective of their level of competency.

Thank you for reading. Yes, they are all separate episodes of various degrees of abuse. Little infernos I call them. They are not rants per se. But, something more organic, something that has almost become a part of who they are, these abuses have. There are some gross infractions but some are rather subtle. Misogyny and Xenophobia is one of the later for example. I wanted to explore the psychological canvass behind these. These glimpses of Jigoku are creations of our very own. A series of infinity loops.

Les Petits Enfers It was attraction They told me, when he yelled at me. He hurt me often, as he saw fit. "It was fine", they told me. "Just letting off a little steam." He had some problems at work. He never told me exactly what. When I caught him cheating with another girl, younger, much lovelier than me, they told me to keep mum. "Men are not meant to be monogamous. Besides what will you do if he marries her." I know Al Kuran Majid gives me rights in this m

I left parts of myself everywhere The way absent-minded people leave Well done. Bravo.

Like two perky swans, in the lake One Like is not enough.

absolutely fabulous. big thumbs up.

The haiku is fine. AC Benus is better suited for an analysis. But, the first free verse is quite sublime; a broad built like a redbrick shithouse, would be an analogy worthy of its robust mouthfeel. It eclipsed even "More Words". Made me very glad to read them all.

I chose Currier New to elucidate the emotional frigidity. The current system may be great for prose writers, but completely useless for the architecture of poetry.

Thank you Lyssa. I certainly believe in that.

Thanks Emi. The painting is Santhal Dance by Jamini Roy. I have a copy hanging on my bedroom wall. The image evoked a series of memories; latest of them being the Nagar Sankirtana of the Gaudiya Vaishnavite sect who believe such processions destroy the sins of the onlookers even.

Thank you guys. But the problem is, this poem was not supposed to be posted till Wednesday evening in India. And the font is wrong too. New software glitches I guess.

One At A Time Slowly the petals Descend upon the water Of lake and clear streams The Sakura tree looses All its majestic blossoms My vain spring is over Best days of my youth wasted Pining after one Who wouldn't return my desires My affections burnt to Ash Sure as the petals Descend upon the surface Of lake and clear streams They neither colour the flow Nor perfume the cold water 24/04/2017

Your first free verse takes the crown. The haiku was a close second.

You can earn millions writing food blogs.

The Painting Unadorned tribal frame hanging on the yellow pasty walls Oscillating to the miniature gusts of impatient April wind Creating dark shadows Slowly undulating features of the street bands of yore Singing, dancing, marching on all in the name of love Now silenced Frozen in a frame of twenty by ten Bearing the grudge of the masses The sin eaters dance 15/04/17

"Listless Ablutions Grey" Well done.

"Daisy, dozy, drowsy day Lossy, lazy, lousy way Cranky, clumsy, crazy play Natty, nutty, naughty sway " Excellent.

"A see through mirror Where I stand against As the world " "Mirror! Mirror!" is definitely the cutest of them all. Thanks for sharing.