It Escaped

It escaped into the cloudless night,

Into the virgin moonlight white,

It ran off to the stretching horizon,

To endear the setting sun.

 

It escaped into the sad tunes,

To cherish the melancholic hues,

It escaped from the brazen lies,

It escaped from superficial smiles.

 

All the fools who caused menace,

All who set things ablaze,

It bade them good bye on the face,

Left behind not a single trace.

 

Tired of being entangled,

Tired of things and people so bland,

It set itself free,

It weaved its own story.

It escaped, and let things be.

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The Streetlamp

There it stood,

On the street leading to no where;

There it stood,

Lone as the bird that flies in a stormy sky.

 

Its light was dim,

Dimmer than the eyes of an unlucky mother;

Its pole was weak,

Weak as the plant whose leaves have withered.

 

Aware it was of its futility

For it stood on a street eternally empty

No man or beast would ever rely

On its ever-so dim light.

Though lonely as the bird of a stormy sky,

It stood untiringly, but never desired to fly.

 

Reflections on a Reflection

The afternoon sun burst into the room. Passing through the light pink curtains, it gave the entire room a dreamy appearance. The house was empty. The silence of the usually chirpy birds gave her a feeling of insecurity. Yet, shrugging off the dread, she removed the towel that wrapped her, and got dressed. She then applied a lotion delicately over her entire body, gliding her fingers smoothly over the moist of her skin.

 

She walked up to the mirror.

 

There she stood, angelically beautiful, devoutly pious yet, blasphemously sinful. Her graceful frame seemed to tell a thousand stories, a little at a time. The roundness of her physique, the child-like innocence radiating from her face and yet, a melancholic tinge in her eyes, made her all the more attractive.

 

She looked her reflection into the eye. All at once, raced a million reflections through her mind-of the past, the present and… let it be. She looked at herself, rather, watched herself. She’d watched herself since a long while, from her very childhood. She’d watched herself grow; grow from a little kid to what they call a lady, a full grown lady. She had watched her own self transcend through the many seasons-the flowers of spring, the snow of winter, the sweat of summer and the bliss of monsoon. She’d watched the many tears, the many pains she had endured. All of them were like messengers from some far away land. They had messages to convey, lessons to teach.  

 

She smiled. The reflection smiled back. But, would it last? The smile? Maybe yes, if she tried. And she did. She did try. Holding on to the smile, she raced her thoughts back to all the lovely presents offered to her, the presents that made her being worth it-the rainbows whose colours were difficult to distinguish but the fact that they were there, gave her solace; the tinkling of anklets as her mother rushed from one corner of the house to another; the sound of her father turning the pages of the newspaper and finally the contented feeling when he’d place it on the table, for now he’d come to her; her younger brother’s monotonous tantrums over the same little things. And just how there’s no end to counting the stars, there seemed no end to counting her blessings. The reflection seemed to be able to fathom that, and naturally, the smile broadened.

 

She looked at her lips and remembered him, the dreams she dreamt about him. She remembered her heart racing every time he would come closer. How desperately she hoped he would be hers, but alas! Yet, she had never let her dreams be shattered. There’s nothing wrong in dreaming, is there? Her reflection grinned, like a child, at being offered her favourite chocolate.

 

How blissful it all is! How marvelous! She carried within her a wonder, a fairytale- some of it revealed, some held back. She wasn’t at all times what she appeared to be. Not always that epitome of strength she was believed to be, was strong enough. Neither were the smiles always smiling. Like a rollercoaster, she had hurled herself to different directions, high and low, yet at all times, like the rollercoaster ride, it was joyous. She smiled all the more.

 

But.

 

But, bless the Devil that lurked in the shadows. Well, can he tolerate smiles? No. Never.

 

Like the harrowing thunder that disrupts the tranquility of the night, there barged into her thoughts the echoes of his voice – the doctor’s voice, kind yet ruthless, “Actually, it’s too late, maybe a year more.”

 

And, probably that explained the silence of the usually chirpy birds.

 

To the World, With Love

Stranded in the middle of no where,
Yet, I could transcend everywhere.
Woes belittled the ever little soul,
Yet, I found a path to lead me back home.

The same old twisted tales,
The same old piercing nails;
My very own clouds followed by rainbows;
Deep in my sorrows drowned, meekly my poem flows.

Another futile promise not to care,
Another dwindling thought sways in the air.
Of bliss and of melancholy,
The stories you tell so artfully-
Giving me faith, rekindling my hope,
Resonating within me, you’re my abode.



 

A Blissful Cacophony

Heard it before,
Hearing it again;
Relishing its melody,
Enduring the pain.

Drifting away with its tune
Letting go of all control.
It keeps strangling my soul,
Yet, I remain quiet as a stone.

The ruthlessness, the stakes-
They make me stronger day by day.
The subtle rhythm controls my heartbeat,
Hurdling me forward lest I retreat.
Teaching me to move ahead slowly,
My master; it’s a blissful cacophony.

 

Echoes from a Labyrinth

This is mine
And that is yours.
She is his
And he is hers.
All the smiles
And all the tears,
Are now in the grips
Of an evil curse.

——————

It’s your fault
So the blow is yours.
Your own dilemma
You got to cure.
You got to pick yourself up
Each time that you fall.
That friend, and this foe
Were never yours at all.

——————

Strains of wrath,
Eyes of lust;
Love snatched,
And shattered trust-
The fools you’ll meet
While passing this labyrinth.
But, you better move on.
For this ain’t what you were born for.

A Hope Still Flickers

The smile hardly reached up to the eyes any more.

Numbness was all that the fingers bore.

The ceaseless stings of the night seemed to kill.

Tears mingled with the raindrops on the window sill.

 

All that goes around indeed comes around.

No one could ever fly leaving another on the ground.

If this was the long-awaited desire coming true,

Then what is it that snatched away the sky’s blue?

 

Though the tears keep blurring them away,

Yet the dreams once dreamt linger all day.

Hope the storms aren’t as harsh there as here.

Hold on to faith. No, do not fear.

Though as broken as broken can be,

A hope still flickers, a hope so sweet.

Anwesha Saha

3rd March 2012