Poetry: Amita Ray

Amita Ray

My grief lies stranded on denuded space
heaviness of loss weighs down
a blow of infringement on tender green
predators plunder and wreck, fill in
 the lacuna of verdant identity
 with sky-scraping dreams
aligning eyesores and beaten shapes,
concrete flights scale zenith
awning gateway to sunshine, peeping
 through interstices of yesteryear
immigrant eyes seek balm to soothe. 
I deplore the loss—
Nature’s beauty gone for a toss.
wings homeless sing a dirge
echoing through manicured lawns
trimmed groves gossamer replicas 
like painted trinkets of embellishment 
amplify the perfect picture
of an  impoverished  vista.


Pitter patter on window panes
alternate torrents battering down
occasional lull orchestrate
interlude of a monologue--
a splash here plays rock and roll
with a plop there
a constant drip drop synthesises
the perfect diurnal sonata.

Night churns a symphony saudade
 trailing into deep foggy tunnels
down eyelids memory clogged,
 a crescendo of croaks and chirps
 rebounds, disquieting piled  silence 
 a refrain muted long in wistfulness
 drifts me  indulgently to a realm  
in paper boats sailing upstream! 

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