Voices Within: Aneek Chatterjee

Aneek Chatterjee is an Indian poet and academic from Kolkata and author of “Seaside Myopia: A Book of Poems” (Cyberwit.net, 2018). He has been published in literary magazines in the USA, Canada, Australia, Ireland, Mauritius, Philippines and India. His poems have been included in eight anthologies also; -- all published from the USA. Chatterjee has a Ph.D. in International Relations. He also authored and edited 9 academic books and a novel titled “The Funeral Procession”, besides numerous articles. He taught at the University of Virginia, USA as a Fulbright Visiting fellow.

Unborn Poems and Yellow Prison

I do not have much time.

Remove the sheet of mist

from the mustard field

I wish to see pranks of

yellow flowers,

wish to enjoy their blinks

under the winter sun

Let me see the river

playing hide and seek

with me, fishes

Do not net them

I’m averse to any prison,

red, blue or yellow

Let the fish swim in fancy

and wave to me,

let the tree

whisper agony in my ears

Do not talk loud

Poems are ready to have

a free, silent birth

#

Do not be the wall

along the mustard field,

yellow flowers and unborn

poems

My river has all the time

to break any shackle

The Ancient Stoic

The river comes to you

and whispers: can you

see everything like

before, old fellow?

The river cleanses your feet

and pays homage

The air is engaged in

all kinds of pranks

with you.

Have you seen the carnival

last night, and physical

intimacy of young lovers?

Have you seen blood

of the murdered washed

away by waters,

and heard uncontrolled

cries of the mother ?

I hate your stoicism

over the ages, but silently aspire

to be like you,

now and always.

The Last Poem

A crow sitting on

a dry naked branch

has been shouting ruins

The morbid sound of a

dilapidated tram has irked

his senses

I searched love in

a dingy by-lane

The bluish ash cat only

watched

I can still hear those melodious

tunes making the tree

grow again

I can see mother knitting

the dream sweater in

winter sun

I’m still playing hide

& seek with the air,

& all children

#

The crow is shouting

harsh in ruins;

& amid ruins everywhere

I try to compose my last

poem, under a

winter sun

Journey

At a meeting of the dead recently

the bearded man demanded

that he be shaved clean

immediately

The young lad wanted a football

ground on his book

The girl shouted for roads

free of pigs, & the lady

supported her

The crow dropped a lizard

from its beak & wished

pieces of cooked chicken

instead

The queen held on to

her jewelry,

& the musicians

threw away their piano, guitar,

drums & violin

Life only smiled

in silent vengeance

Voices Within - Complete List of Poets :: Setu, January 2019