Three Photo Poems by Gopal Lahiri


Anemone Morning

I measure my steps near the yellow floral sea.

Slow and easy to shake up the stillness,
To concur my wet footprints.

Where are those woods, I think I know?

The shadows start screaming for silence
beside the bright blossoming flowers.

At the edge of the Anemone morning
I fold my palms and then start meditating.

I stop to hear me breathe or is it a whisper?

The resolutions fade in the rising sun,
splits me like the flakes of mica schist,
I carve them in my own image.

Let myself sink deep, until I get carried away.

The remnants are here, there, and everywhere.
…………………………………………………




Two Sentries

White clouds above the blue mountains are
devoid of words; they gather, they withhold
the unlikely rain.

I stand on the green slope, two arms
outstretched, mouths stay open,
Will my eyes blank out in the lid less eyes?

I drift among the mossy rocks and pebbles
like a wind that is strong and has more teeth
than anything I can imagine.

My mind is full of nothing but joy
nobody else will see except the honeybees
down there where a stream edges through.

The two trees stand like silent sentries
invoke grey clouds and downpour falling, 
falling in my dream, where green leaves bleed.
…………………………………………………….


Haibun

Savannah Ghost

Out at the Forsyth Park, a yellow bird sits on the fountain and wets her wings. The pale sun immerses in the fading horizon. It is just a summer afternoon. I see your curved face beside the Spanish-American War Memorials. You click photos with your red mobile phone and smile unmindfully. And the body is wrapped in white dress. I want to go near you. But then you suddenly vanish at the end of the Lincoln Street.

Later at the rooftop of my guest house, under the watchful gaze of night stars, You come again and drop your hair like Spanish Mosses and wait for the half- moon to rise at the eastern sky behind Lucas Theatre. The thin night winds whisper the clock time. You start narrating the ghost stories and about the gravestones. The Town Ghost Trolley stops at the Andrew Low House. The whole moment is now floating there.

moon light
giving shelter to the ghost
from my shadow
…………………………………………………….

Bio: Gopal Lahiri is a bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer and translator with 29 books published, including eight solo/jointly edited books. His poetry is also published across various anthologies as well as in eminent journals of India and abroad. His poems are translated in 16 languages. He has been nominated for Pushcart Prize for poetry in 2021. He is the recipient of the Poet of the Year Award in Destiny Poets, UK, 2016, Setu Excellence Award, 2020, Pittsburgh, US and Indology Life-Time Achievement award, West Bengal, India. His latest collection of poems ‘Alleys are Filled with Future Alphabets.’ has received wide acclaim. and recently he has received Ist Jayanta Mahapatra National Award, 2024 for his contribution in Indian English Writing. 


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