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Haraprasad Chatterjee Poem
She sorts me in parts
From one side to other.
I am symmetrical and asymmetrical.
I am closest to her brain
I swing around her freely.
I take a leap and kiss her cheeks
She tucks me back behind her ears
Adamantly, i repeat. She repeats.
I am tired
I rest on her shoulders.
I get confused and ill
She untangles me with her Clarity
She cleans me with her Sincerity.
I am hers.
I run down her neck and beyond.
Copyright © Haraprasad Chatterjee | Year Posted 2019
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Haraprasad Chatterjee Poem
I arrange the strings
Of my favourite instrument
The head, For perfect music
Of art and evolution
I play the flute
with perfect synchronization
Of togetherness with art
Of wilderness with evolution
I am a pianist now
Drawn deeper into the music
with each stroke of touch
Of pain and love
My music her poetry
she reads me
from top to bottom
I draw her closer.
She whispers,"Mr. Artist,
You play the hormones
better than
your instrument".
Copyright © Haraprasad Chatterjee | Year Posted 2019
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Haraprasad Chatterjee Poem
i was there
silent and faceless
i was there
calm and motionless
impossible for the eyes to behold
difficult for the senses to get hold
now i move, an escape perhaps
so slow yet the senses grasp
the blinded eye beheld,fear and despair
i move again, against the eyes that scare
tethered to the sight of a sight so rare
i was there i am there i will be there
Copyright © Haraprasad Chatterjee | Year Posted 2019
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Haraprasad Chatterjee Poem
There have been times
Terrible, tricky, tiring times
Of moments, I have been victim
For I did not know
I have been rude
I have been arrogant
I have been angry
I have ignored
I have conspired
I have lied
I have cheated
All this in Complete knowledge
For at those moments, it seemed
as if it was to Protect
Protect some part of me
Both abstract and physical
I have protected well, well
Enough. For I did not know.
All these years, And now I sit
Perhaps at the same place
I was when I first fought
Fought to protect. In front
Of me, A mirror. to this Mirror
I ask, "what did u protect?"
There is silence.
Copyright © Haraprasad Chatterjee | Year Posted 2021
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