Poem: Ananya S Guha

Ananya S Guha

- Ananya S Guha

Every time the sun of my being
the moon of my desires
the emerald of my skies
I speak of lost hues
and blessings of the rain
Every time your marigold hair
is firmament of a spring time
with rain washed hills
and plum shaped faces
Every time the shores of happiness
are truncated by mists
even as there are whispers of death
and living a dangerous art
Every time the promontories of despair
mock the way of kneading lives
into a wholesome light
Every time you are there
I know the trees, the branches
and the earth filled universe rotates
on a love, heaving bosoms
of a mature earth
And every time then, I look towards
a future.
I stoke these hills steeped in passion
of winter and summer, even as light
caves in and darkness gets into membranes
and the mind is quicksand
Every time as the shadow falls
ghosts tread on earth
and hills of a life time where I have spent
walk cadaverous ways of the lonely,
the destitute.

Setu, April 2019

Poetry: Ananya S Guha

Ananya S Guha

Ananya S Guha

And these voices
inherent in hills
as the twig ruffles
across roads smelling
of  tars, the voices dig
into the body, penetrate
hill tops, where houses squat
and the pines looking surprised
voices mingle with skies
and the slopes of the hills
tears, voices
voices, tears
I burn my wishes in voices
inert, suddenly loud
as the hills suddenly burst
into night's rains.
My school day raincoats
are my dreams now.
Thunderous, clapping of voices
as the hills melt into jagged sky blues.

Setu, October 2018

Wars Of Silence - Poem

Ananya S Guha

Ananya S Guha

I command histrionics

of a sort invoking elements, fire, sky

and nature. Histrionics of forgetting, 

not forgiving. Ballot papers in the eye 

of voters. Political stance of unbecoming

not being. Shallow histrionics of bullets and 

bruises. I command histrionics, water and fire 

play together, in dalliance the ethereal.

Bomb their guts out fire play of the devil.

Histrionics in the acting out in life.

Not on plastic stages, where people only resemble.

Archetypes of disenchanting reality.

My histrionics are word, speech, gesture, volatile 

crackers at play. Living. Crackling. 

Dumbfounded we listen to wars of silence. Histrionics 

of death, living, murdering and media reporting. 

Live long the strongest, the weak ones have no options but 

to wipe them off their feet. 

Wars of silence, continue

unabated.

Back to Table of Contents

Ananya S. Guha

Ananya S Guha is the regional director of the Indira Gandhi National Open University, Shillong. He has been writing poetry and publishing his poems for over thirty years.

Authors A-Z

लेखक वृंद