Five Poems by Chaitali Giri


O the Sandpiper!
The bringer of light, love and longing to live...
Every mortal, I believe
Was born with a Sandpiper of its own
Some known and some unknown...
When a waned patient sees Death's shiny sickle appear,
It is the Sandpiper
who prepares the sword within to trim its power...
When a wearied one finds the world around
a bleak musty domain with no hope to unbound,
It is the Sandpiper
that comes and make the cloud gone,
telling that living life lively will make him won.
When a lost one tries escaping the mortal hell,
It is the Sandpiper
that makes him escape the sin telling life's tale...
The Sandpiper is here, it is there
No, no bird need to run after...
Let each of us be each one's Sandpiper...

Waiting by the Clouds

Was it my supposed infidelity that you stopped coming,
even in dreams?
Or was it your burden of fidelity
that deplored you a freedom?
Did you try to mend the chord
you said was broken?
Or did you twist your leg deep down
into the crack?
I got glimpses years after last night
that you are visiting my dreams-
half seen, half I made seen...
The dream seemed white
as our reflections seemed not so bright...
I didn't ask anything for, but
you brought me the smile
I am wearing now!
Now all I want is, you,
passing my visions once in a while.
and I will be waiting by the clouds
with closets full of smiles...

When I'll Be Left

The old village is soon to be desolated...
Mud houses, erected slowly steadily with care
will be left ajar with certainty of none
to slip in...
The alleys, the corners will lose their turns
with none to count them...
The infant plants, now are being raised
just to be watcher of human footsteps
patiently for years....
The wells will wail to be drawn drops
whom Time had left muddied...
The rocks will pine for tear drops to soften them...
The handmade paths will lose their tracks devoid of feet...
The Sun and Moon will be hurled to get their duties done
and never will shine again...
The Sky will look down for faces and lips urging prayers
to found none but passive dust.
All will exist with non-existing existence
When I will be left, leaving my land behind...

We Met Again

And then when we met again
Years after
You, with the same benign smile
I, with the same loud laughter.
We talked for hours,
You, looking at me
I, stealing looks of yours.
I didn't know
If I appeared pretty to you,
Or it was the love you found
Divinely beautiful...
I didn't know
If my flesh appealed to you,
Or it was the caress you felt
My soul left on yours.
I regretted badly that
Only if it wasn't the world beyond
We were meeting then...
Only if Time hadn't won
In earth then...

Undesired Thunder

I can see
The wavy thunder
Like a lost serpent
Thrives and wanders.
Now in, now out
Touching my window
Slaining the lunatic wind
Enticing me to grab it,
And as I try everytime
Find it a blazing the sky
With light of desire infinite.

I never evoked it,
I never desired it...
It poked me through darkness
Pleading a mortal to embrace.
But who wants to be Semele in sense?
Than a flaming in an undesired flame
It is better to live in utter absense...

Bio of Chaitali Giri
Chaitali Giri works as a Project Fellow in the department of English and Culture Studies at the University of Burdwan, West Bengal, India. She also teaches as a Guest Lecturer in English at MUC Women's College, Burdwan, WB, India.


  1. Go ahead my friend...all my best wishes for u...

  2. The poems are evocative of some inexplicable feelings. All of them. Some of them leave us with a sense of loss, some of them with a sense of expectations, some others with longing and desire. But none of them fails to unfold an event.

    I would like to applaud in this vein, the poetic skills of Miss Chaitali Giri. Those five poems are as it were sudden flashes of her geniius. Each of her poems narrates a story; they read like tales of our recurrent emotions. It was as if she had gone out with a view to narrate a tale, and she has been successful every single time. Like the lyrics of Sidney, her poems are charged with great emotional energy. Each word seems befitting and most appropriate, with the result that the cumulative effect is one of inexplicable joy that brings pearls of tears to our eyes.

    Be blessed her magic story telling!
    Long live Setu!
    Keep bridging!
    Keep connecting!

  3. Thank you so much for appreciating my writing in such an encouraging way...


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