Navoneil Bhattacharyya   (navoneil.com)
3.2k Followers · 124 Following

read more
Joined 13 March 2018


read more
Joined 13 March 2018
26 MAR 2020 AT 17:25

Day 2 of 21

21 or Less

It takes twenty-one days to form a habit
Or break one -
Like opening the door,
Making plans,
Shaking hands,
Eating out,
Hugging friends,
Walking on the street,
Breathing.

Less so, perhaps, for the dead.

-


25 MAR 2020 AT 9:15

Day 1 of 21

A New Normal

Wake up. The sky is blue.
Can you spot the moon?
It's still there, isn't it,
Round and thorny, crown-like?
Who wants to wear it?
Forget it.
It's a new day,
The first
Of twenty-one.
This is a new poem.
Let's not write of old things.

(please read caption for the entire poem)

-


25 JUN 2021 AT 12:35

Immortal - by Navoneil Bhattacharyya 

There is a life to be had 
Bathed in the days of the sun
But I
Burn up easy

(please read caption
for the entire poem)

-


23 JAN 2021 AT 13:13

Campfires of the Ancient

(dedicated to Netaji and the INA)

-


21 NOV 2020 AT 1:25

An Offer You Can't Refuse

Don Cappuccino and Don Latte - they got into a fight.
One was more caffeine, he claimed, and the other milky white.
They stood among the cheering beans (spoiling for some fun);
One hissed with frothy anger, the other smoldered like the sun.

(please read caption for the entire poem)

-


4 NOV 2020 AT 0:00

Zombie Nights - by Navoneil

Bits of broken paper litter my path - 
Scraps of thought buried with the dead
Like mummified childhood promises. 
A few flutter as I approach, take to the sky - 
Lost stringless kites, air kisses sans meaning. 
If you strain beyond your roofs you may catch a glimpse of them - 
Prayers to many several gods of every cross and main, 
Boulevards to heaven. 
The rest remain firmly on the ground, waiting
To be trampled underfoot. 
Except that no one walks here anymore.

-


8 SEP 2020 AT 11:55

Apocalypse

I fear I've forgotten to write
I used to string words together for fun
Now they string me along day and night
Promising thoughts that never come
These days I sit for hours waiting
By the window by the balcony
By the side of the street
My begging bowl that is my mind lies
Beside me famished and empty
I wish there were more to say but this is all
My friend I fear
My writing days are at an end.

-


28 AUG 2020 AT 22:14

A Stray Patch of Sun

I can't tell if this is enough poetry -
Light sunshine falls through the cracks in my door,
Dust shimmers mid-air, never falling,
Stuck between life and death, not minding one bit
This fifteen seconds of fame or burning bright, aflame.
I can't tell if this is verse enough, or scribbling -
Doodling, because life doodles on.
I can't tell if clichés are radiant metaphors who didn't die young,
As all beauty must.
I can't tell if I'm a closet murderer or a poet,
Or whether killing dreams counts,
Or letting them die.
Dust is beautiful, bewitching, sparkling in the sun -
I can't tell if it knows.

-


15 AUG 2020 AT 21:29

Saraswati

At long last the river runs dry,
Or perhaps it has changed course -
Now it flows wild in the imagination of ancient travellers,
Or underground (in the gutters of cities unseen),
In moth-eaten textbooks full of dog ears and candle wax,
In the unborn lava of volcanoes gone extinct.

(please read caption for the entire poem)

-


15 AUG 2020 AT 8:56

Woe

Outside, wandering minstrels sing and dance and pantomime -
The laughter doesn't reach me; it feels made up.
I wish someone could pause for a moment
But pausing is letting go of the light,
Pausing is falling back - a kind of fading,
a form of defeat in itself perhaps.

(please read caption for the entire poem)

-


Fetching Navoneil Bhattacharyya Quotes