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Madhurima Ghosh Poem
When I stepped in here
I caught the unsymmetrical patterns on the wall,
The dark maroon contrasting curtains,
An open cupboard and
A thick layer of dust on the broken mirror
The floor, the surrounding
A damp room with beige walls
And a glass window with twisted grills
Showing me my place, my cage
But…
But, the dawn welcomed me with its heat, its warmth
It’s been a long time since these spring mornings have seen me
Yet the sunshine hasn’t forgotten my face,
My touch, dry hands, barely wet lips.
The afternoon gathered the clouds,
Whistling a calm breeze outside my window
I could feel the dust around me,
weighing heavy with moisture.
For a while, the sky was blue, blue like a sapphire martini
But then the sky shattered,
It was the beginning of the dark gravel-grey ruler
It began to shower over the shade, over the oak tree
Across the meadow.
The cool breeze seeped through my shirt,
Tickled with my hair near the neck
Embracing my mood, my body.
The wind took me to the narrow balcony,
As it knows a spell and whispered behind my ears,
Eavesdropping on my mind and stealing my sanity.
When I stretched my arms the raindrops fell directly on my grasp
The wind ruffled my shirt and the rain seeped inside
And ran down my curves, my breasts
Kissing my cheeks and lashes.
I closed my eyes, inhaled the earthly scent
And a thin layer of subconscious dream appeared
Of you touching me….
But something is missing here
The city is new, constantly whispering,
Scaring and mocking me. But back home,
I had my big beautiful balcony, with potted plants.
And no grills, the cityscape was a cage in itself
A graffiti in my mind big, busy and beautiful.
Each flat narrating a tale at once, talking at once
Or maybe crying at once, burying their love somewhere
Here in the air, in the city.
I miss home,
I thought I won’t, but I do
The conversations with Mumma
They are not as deep as they used to be,
Back home sometimes there were no conversations just her
sitting by my side quietly was enough.
I miss that.
See I assumed I am selfish. Which I’m
But I think I’m selfish in my own selfless ways.
I am…
I am the girl, there in the corner of the darkroom
With purple blue green party lights.
She, she is constantly worrying
She knows she doesn’t fit here,
She fits under the extended tin shade
Where the chairs don’t match and it’s a mess.
I’m the girl who becomes tensed
when her reflection falls on the mirror,
She is hinged with questions
Holding a half-empty glass with faults of her own.
What if she was a bit taller,
Sharp features and, and the marks on her thighs were lighter.
I’m her, self-conscious with her own self.
The city scared me with its own ways
But the spring was not scary this time,
Was it because I met you?
Even your dark silhouette became more comforting
Than the flower blossoms.
The unknown city, endless walks, forgotten skies
Became familiar with you.
You filled the void with the untold conversations,
The evening with your fathomless glances
The starving nights with your kisses.
When my reflection stood next to you
In the mirror, your hands ran through the arch of my back
Through the tangles of my hair
You took my scars with you without a bargain.
You made me fall in love with myself with yourself
Entering somewhere maybe the dreams or oceans morphing
With our own self.
Copyright © Madhurima Ghosh | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Madhurima Ghosh Poem
I can see the dark hues through my window,
it’s cloudy outside with no stars or fireflies.
It’s been three years since the darkness has been protecting me
With its hollow emotions running through me day by day, night by night.
But today it is different; the cloud has clogged the sky with no rain, no wind, no moon.
Just a graphite grey sheet cruel enough to resist the sky to see or breathe.
Making me uncomfortable in my own room a little gloomy but beautiful.
With little or no lights, me sitting in one place.
My books kept on my bed and the rack half-empty with dust,
My pens ran out of ink lying near the pile of clothes kept on the chair instead of my big brown closet.
A wrinkled bedsheet with a musky smell, similar to the room freshener kept by the edge.
The cityscape has seen me this way, peeking at me through the glass windows and mocking in silence.
But the night has always been there for me, gawking with its familiar way, asking for a conversation.
We spoke many times about the seashore, how the waves become louder at night and the sand is shinier than usual
like the voices inside my brain having their scintillating chat under those dim lights.
Those were the hours when I fell in love with the night,
See! darkness can be beautiful too, with unusual sophistication.
But you….
You were fond of lights, urging me to remove those curtains of secrecy and let those devilish rays seep inside,
You took my dry hands and let them soak the moist from the first rays.
You knew the depth in my eyes can not be filled only by those high pitched blank conversations,
they need the rays, the autumnal air, some tiny blossoms.
You made the mornings easy for me with your voice, glistening smiles, with your tender touch
And those lovely eyes.
Caressing my cold cheeks and telling me ‘Meet you tomorrow at sunrise’.
~Madhurima Ghosh
Copyright © Madhurima Ghosh | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Madhurima Ghosh Poem
I open the books, turn around the pages
Just to find you in it, to find ‘us' in it
Hidden messages and imaginations of
What you might do to me
What I might do to you
The touch of your hands on mine
Intertwining my fingers around yours
And suddenly the hopeless Monday might start making sense.
Imagining your silly smile when I compliment you
That how cute you look with the messy hair
And wearing that blue t-shirt.
Imagining you coming closer to my neck
Sliding my hair and suddenly asking me
‘which perfume are you wearing?’
Damn! Damn the imaginations
Cuz whenever I see a guy holding a guitar
I immediately think of you
Knowing that it can’t be you,
You’re not here.
Many evenings I sit near my glass window
I struggle just to have a glimpse of the moon
To capture it and share it with you.
The shade over it doesn’t always allow me to do so
Dangling upon my schedule and time
I still like to share this moon with you
Binding you with a spectrum of lights
Asking you to save this moon forever in your gallery.
See now it’s not the moon in the sky anymore, it’s our moon
Our reflection on the sky.
All these imaginations suspended inside me
And I know it’s not only me
Who is tantalizing herself, you’re equally partaking
In these enigmatic evenings of mumbling imaginations.
~Madhurima Ghosh
Copyright © Madhurima Ghosh | Year Posted 2022
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