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| Jyotirmoy Sil |
Ballad of roof thatchers
Straw within straw does entwin
woven lore of smile and pain.
Cuckoo hums a low refrain
prophesying summer and rain.
Kalboishakhi in summer's swings
—a fleeting lore of grace—-
as it expands, embracing a new fragrance,
a hymn in the evening wakes.
When ants rally up to the thatches
prophesying flood,
in a fleeting spell home clings
to the bamboo bends.
Steps in water, memories scatter,
softly lost where time does confer.
Truths whispers of roots unseen
raindrops within monsoon's clouds sheen;
In winter, poverty reincarnate in foggy spleen
underneath the braids of thatches.
Yet comes Spring with breathes anew
and cradles broken dreams like morning dew.
***
Dilemma of a night cat
Bizarre figures from her dreams wane everyday,
like the faded fabrics upon a pot of china clay.
On that couch, she herself coils
loving Dickinson's death poems,
and rotates her memory like a observant cat
sleeping on a dusky mat.
Her sterile marriage remains a secret cue
for attaining fancied mad cabarets undue;
a pinch of vermilion hue
—a hollow mockery to pursue—
holds a mark of sombre incantation
as if, of a moth’s memory of a cocoon.
Then, she intends to imitate
silence existence of a night cat—
that hovers around empty alleys
where shadows uncoil like liquid vines,
twisting between fractured walls.
So that, within her mindscape—
dilemma blends with numbness,
some mystique chants she may whisper
transforming into a sage demure;
amidst the dense abyss of grin
her abode is curved, and yet is sheen.
***
An unsuitable bride
Like a mundane faded carpet
in the drunken blaze of summer,
she coils like a caterpillar;
a moth on the wall with fleeting whisper
chants a hollow mockery for her.
‘...now walk a few steps,’
grooms mother says,
‘let's see how delicate are your legs;
little up, your chin—
smile up your chubby face
(…not a bit of grace).’
‘Whatever, no dowry his father desires;
up to you are gold ornaments…’
The boy, she reminds,
who after her school comes
by a cycle green
with a tender wind.
Tears tremble in her eyes,
her smooth dream wanes.
Then an empty vase breaks.
***
Bio: Jyotirmoy Sil is a dilettante poet.
Presently he is an Assistant Professor of English in Malda College, West
Bengal. His poems have been published in several webzines including Muse India, Madras Courier, Setu, Spillwords, International Times, Boundless
2022, and in Yearbook of Indian
English Poetry 2021 and 2023.
Email ID: siljyotirmoy@gmail.com
Mobile No: +917278541009
