Poetry: Moinak Dutta

Moinak Dutta

Just before going away

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Just before going away to catch that train

She turned back and flashed a smile,

The underground station entry was only few paces away,

People were rushing towards it,

There must have been a train downtown soon,

I was watching her going away,

As if I was watching the last scene of a celebrated movie-

There must have been a background score running,

Something bearing a sad tune, befitting her going away,

I was watching that spectacle,

Heart wrenching , poignant, musical,

Her hair tossing over her shoulders

Like brown fur carelessly thrown,

Her lips moving slowly , might be they were

Saying in whispering tone her goodbye or prayers,

Was not she waving her hand, like friends do when they part

At the end of a long journey together?

That yellow lamp post that stood beside her

Like a guard mute must be glowing all the more

To cast a definitive cinematic brilliance and luminosity

To her departure, her going away;

Just before going away

She left a strong moving picture

Slow, graphic, unputdownable one.

Pickle

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Our love is like that good old jar of pickle

We keep it like a cherished possession,

A bit of it can  send shooting down

Our system a flurry of sensations varied,

Hot, fiery, pungent, sweet, lemony, orangy, juicy,

And we keep yearning for more knowing too much

Of that  can make our tongues insensitive to taste,

And a little can not we leave as our only savoured thing.

Our love is like that good old jar of pickle

And we keep it nice by placing that jar under warm sun.

 Setu, December 2018