There's a canvas
in my little dark room that
lies white and bold
yet blank and lifeless
on the easel I've carved;
Till you enter my turf
and bare its curtains
and paint my canvas with
colours bright, concealing
the white, and rim
and smudge deliberately
to shape it into a Spring.

We'd then blend all colours
to smile away the
harmony of a sunset,
sculpt some glinting stars
in the night sky
and prepend some morning birds
and slide down a gliding rill;
Till a summer storm
wakes us up with its summer dust,
whopping all colours
of my canvas bright.

And all that would remain
is a canvas
in my little dark room that'd
lie dusted, pale and grey
yet most treasured down my memory lane
on the easel I've carved!

-

No matter
how high and firm
the confines of the world,
The heart wants what it wants.
And I bother giving
up on my dreams
only at the cost of this world's irrationality
before my smile.

-

//The moon//

Illuminated with oracle
Tranquil in tormented gloom
Your silver unrequited zeal I am,
A blissful ornament
In your solitary poems
But a delusive touch I am.

Do me a favor my carnal lovers,
Wake up from mesmerism
Have a stare at a hackneyed me,
Acquaint me of a veracity,
Would you now zeal me
Still the same?

For I am but a grey
Pool of callous lava,
Concrete regolithed
Aged and dead a volcano,
Is that too much a mirage
For an unaided stargazer?

-

And so you settle
no matter contented
or in resentment
You just settle.

Yet unknown
to the
imminent snag,
You settle.

(Caption contains the poem)

-

No matter you
argue against
or ignore
that latest rumour
of yourself,
it spreads.
ANYWAY.

-

Dear Santa, a request I have for you,
This Christmas Eve
Please do come
Only when I'm wakeful.

I'll cook for you earthly delicacy
And the same for your heavenly reindeers;
And weave for you a Cashmere sweater
So you suffer not the brumous winter.

With love for all children you're gonna bless that Eve
I'll bid you goodbye,
Oh don't forget to convey my regards
To the wisest biblical Magi.

-

Sooner or later,
You'll learn to shut up
and not argue.
You'll learn to be alone
than being lonely.
You'll learn to turf the shit
out of your turf.

You need not hurry.
You'll know when it's your time.

-

THOSE LITTLE RUINS TO MEND

In the swerve of adolescence so dense,
In a hustle where there's no looking back,
We, so tired after the day's pottering around
And yet, are creatures without sleep, so sound.
Then are the complications we put ourselves in,
No. None but ourselves are again at guilt.
Guilt they are, too overruling to run away from.

Then a day, hope it's not too late,
We realize there's another world too,
To which we actually belong.
From which, we were pushed to the swerves,
Okay, let's say for our good!
To this follows epiphany of those little ruins,
Which now, we got to mend. What say?

As for me,
I've got to work on my everincreasing weight which
Can't be considered proportional to my ant height!
Have got to get back my long hair,
I've got to care about my parents' happiness
Before making those silly decisions;
Got to convince my relatives that
I'm not as introvert as they think I've become...
And so goes on the list with
So many a little ruins to mend! -Anwesha Saikia

-

I know naught, if
It holds any grudge over it-
self and me;
All I can do is to request it
To let my idyll be.

-

A MERE TEENAGER

The scars were so visible,
Yet only to her.
For time never did heal them honey,
It canopied them,
Sinking them deeper
And deeper,
Closer, they hugged the soul.
Now, more the years wend by,
More the scars weigh,
More a malaise she suffers.
It's hard to live with the burden;
Yet death's away,
She's just a mere teenager!

-