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Swagata Lakshmi Das Poem
I would stop thinking about the smallest details in my mistakes,
Those words would have more meaning than my thoughts ever had,
The days would encounter the opportunities, almost invisible in this deteriorated current world,
These limbs would linger into the depths of the browns.
There, where the horizons merge, my needs would start diverging,
Echoing through the opaque splash of blues and greys,
Resting on the stiff broken plates of peace,
I would carry nothing but my dreams,
The rest left in repose, as it seems.
- Swagata Lakshmi Das
Copyright © Swagata Lakshmi Das | Year Posted 2021
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Swagata Lakshmi Das Poem
I write with those little pieces of confinement
I have in me.
I write with those precious belongings of the memories I have kept embedded.
I write like that tiny bird building its nest with immense care and love.
I write words linked with the verses of my previous self.
I write with the imperfections I had always cursed myself for,
For not being able to put my pieces into places every time,
For not loving less than my entire existence.
I have written less but felt more.
I have thought more than destruction.
I look into myself and feel nothing but harmony of empathy.
I search for similarities but get empowered with the folds of restraint.
I write with fear and faith.
- Swagata Lakshmi Das
Copyright © Swagata Lakshmi Das | Year Posted 2021
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Details |
Swagata Lakshmi Das Poem
The tremble that creeps in
The hold that seems unfair ,
Supposed to be doomed by the ones
Now they are the ones to stare.
The holy shrine suppressed deep down,
Under the hollow crown of the faces
That triggers the sheer experience
Of treachery and heavy voices.
Lame, broken stays the strength
With the hope to clarify the downfall
Still craving for the essence of
Midnight dreams and the true calls.
What about those tempers that
Never mind of destroying too fast?
Those fierce battles will be unknown
Remains are the ones to finally last!
Copyright © Swagata Lakshmi Das | Year Posted 2020
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