Poetry Pranab Ghosh


To Joe

Your bold desire lie
Dreamy eyed.

The scent of your soul
Floats in my mind
Answering questions
Yet to be asked.

Was there death before life?
Was there love before death?

Union with you
In memory yet
To be stored…
Happened?

We were thinking of a reunion!

The earth had stopped
To rotate around the sun.
The days have disappeared…
The nights were supposed
To take over…

But they paused midway…

Life it seems has been
Overtaken …

Love succumbs
Redefining creation.



To Emile

She whispered she has
Fallen in love…

With whom you did not question.

She wanted you to fall
in love…

With whom you did not question.

The memories she was building up
Had nothing to do with you …
Your existence…
Your struggle…
Your desire…
Your integrity…

Yet she was in love…
With…

Yet she was in love
With…

Yet she was in love
With…

Dream?
Memory?
Fantansy?

Or…

You dare not ask!



Desire Dead

You were ahead of me
Walking down the street

Your thin waist, the
Spring in your feet.

My soul stirred. I
Stole a glance at you.

You were newly wed.
Then…

You walk past me
Wearing a smile

On your face. I did
Not see you for years

I walk up to you.
Exchange pleasantries

You ask your three-year old
Son to say ‘hello’!

I was ahead of you
Down the street.

You were still ahead
A projection from yesteryears.

Thin waist, spring in the feet.

My desire drips on
The pavement for a
You I once knew.

You slowly walk behind
Me, handholding the
Toddler. Your desire dead.

I walk ahead of you
Alone, following the
Yesteryears. My desire
Turns into a dull
Pain, throbbing in
The brain and then
Dies. I lay the dead
Under the banyan tree.

You cross it. Desire dead.


Waking Dream

I have never touched you
Yet I have in waking dream

I have never kissed you
Yet I have in waking dream

I have never held your hands
Yet I have in waking dream

I have never walked along with you
Yet I have in waking dream

I have made love to you, wide
Awake and it was a dream
Come true, though a waking dream

The feel
The touch
The spirit
The end
And
The beginning

In waking dream our spirits
Soared and we gotta
Know it all

The touch without a touch
The kiss without a kiss
The love without a love

I was left panting.



Tribute to Eliot

Pain blooms in the month
Of May…

Lilacs and April are
Passe…

 

Author’s BioPranab Ghosh is a journalist, poet, author and translator. He has three published books to his credit. Air and Age (co-author; published from Kolkata), Soul Searching and Other Poems (first solo book of poems, published from Toronto) and Bougainvillea And Other Stories, a book of short stories in English, translated from the Bengali original. His poems have been published in Tuck Magazine, Dissident Voice, Literature Studio Review, Scarlet Leaf Review, Leaves of Ink, Weasel Press, Ochebooks.com, Harbinger Asyl um,  Hans India and this 
Magazine, among others. He is married and at present is staying in Vijaywada, Andhra Pradesh, India.

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