Poetry: Piku Chowdhury

Piku Chowdhury

THE EMPTY PAGES

Empty pages are like seas

One just needs the guts to jump

And lose forever the predictable.

Once filled up they lose their charm

In certainty of articulation,

Suffocating the thrilling wait 

For what can be and cannot be.

Fairies swing in crazy glee

Over the light that lies askance 

On the pristine page of moments

Epics are born and wither perchance.

***

THE CONJUROR

The quivering leaves would whisper soft

Tales of morning dewdrops lost, 

Sporting sunrays create a song

On the leafy veins and boughs.

A half-clad boy would dance in glee

Beneath the cavorting singing tree, 

Unaware of the frown of hours 

And loss and gain of ticking clocks. 

The joy creeps slow in a vacant heart 

As I stand and stare at streets

Drenched in nascent noontime glow 

After dark and drizzly desolation. 

A thousand radiant suns rise now

In the smile of a slum boy poor,

Siesta of a unicorn, 

Shattered by the conjuror.

***

WHEN YOU MUST GO

When you have to go 

On a long journey towards a lotus 

Of a thousand petals safely enshrined

In a dewy slumber and hesitation, 

You look around for a last reminder 

To proceed without expectations. 

While the steps are still strong enough

To hold your frame that would descend

To the vistas shimmering soft

In moon-blanched dreams and ruminations, 

You step down with a vacant heart

Beyond all endings and new starts.

The lotus holds the secret drops

Of fragrant hues and nectar true

of certainty and meaning bright,

That may be touched or perhaps not;

But the journey must be made

Beyond the last frontiers crossed.

***

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Setu, August 2021