Throne of a Sinking Mind & Other Poems

March

 

Embryo of death will bloom

 

I am being lost like a madman

Observe my struggle

Month of March is lagging behind this journey

 

These rocks define relationship

Reasons form cloud

This is fashion, some people point out

 

Your model is in front of me

My pores in front of you

Innocence is being naked gradually

 

The things that are seen in the sidewalk

Are called writings

THRONE OF A SINKING MIND

 

From the Other Star

Comes to facebook from another star. Loses the ring in a proper place.

The fish of the surface level. Its reasonings are like water. Cliché’s candidates initiate teak wood forest here and there. When fever severs its crust, bring him some newer panic. Tell him that there’s no compassion of insurance for his bridges. Days of gentle explanations are now gone. The mists haven’t become urban even by plentiful physics

Using the Demon of the Lamp

 

 

Has been lost in such a way that you cannot forget those exclamatory marks.

The memorizings cannot be removed off the skin. From the sixty-four types.

Came budding biology. Hope came. Sunshine’s embroidery came on the proper planters. Even his mirror shattered by good-byes. He will withdraw his name from his future. He kills his letters by using the demon of the lamp. Prepares mind and demeans farewell

Around My Body

 

Around my body

Close to the door

The baritone of a singer loiters

I sense a mild smell

Something is being rotten somewhere

I couldn’t sense the fear of it

Somewhere in someone’s heart

my past-present-future is boiling up

Fear’s conscience tells me to go to dim light

Tells me, you have been living so long

as a memory of someone else

So long like a human being on the earth

 

I see, my organs are fear

My colour slips off in the group photograph

I see, I’ve gone for a mild walk

In front of the mirror

I cannot look into my eyes

Weather

 

I too observe people

Accommodate my body within the shadows

I see markets like people

Excite my furs

 

Various hunger in various woods

The outcry of trees

swings lantern

 

How many places

In faces how many would I belong to

How much shadow of the shadows would I become

In many a brotherly tales

I lived stealthily and became a hero at last

 

 

I am mainly the weather

Live in your homes

And surprise you

The New Skin

Writing’s dying

And I’ve got sap and became afar and rainful and reigned like a blossom

Its virgin neighing

Thrusts stuff into my throat

Its drying jelly

Has already told me to go away

Don’t engage your hands in bad jokes like waiting

 

Actually, the pre-history has not been ceased yet

As if I have got a new skin on the Christmas day

I start newer ages by wearing it

Writing has been losing its ambience

Since some previous life

After all this, I think, that ancient and dying writing

Will engulf this writing with its last tentacles

Will tear apart the lively muscles of this writing with harpoon

 

I won’t mind these wounds

I am another person- this kind of woods

I will hoist around myself

 

And

Gradually become human

He

Fever of coziness fades out. And the railway platform turns lonely

The army of a flute brings numbness to the eyes

This acid of illustration

Reveals the lies of the landscape

Now there is a doctor found in an old cinema hall

who opens up the door of blessings

As if there is no danger if you stay near the fairies

The light of your inner home will burn with other’s fuel

Chemistry of a concept held its ground

Although nobody knocks the exam door of other people

Only, they light up the flame of whisper

Signal moves within the ribs

 

He posts letters to himself

He appoints a detective in his own name

 

Wanderpath

 

O, wander path

I cannot bear this reticence anymore

This walk and those rocks are true only

The road that isn’t touched by sun

has been ancient like a civilization

Inside the breaches of those rocks, in its fertile soil

I want to be elevated by entering into and standing upon

I want amongst those coniferous trees

the lifespan of the eternal pines

Inside the dead cloaks

I have been leaving by bodies one after one

As soon as the turning of the face

The wood and rocks of other preoccupations are being burnt

 

I have been writing many days since

Nobody can identify them as poems anymore

About author

Animikh Patra
Animikh Patra 1 posts

Essentially a poet. Fictional and Non-fictional prose writer. Occasional translator. Birthday: 16 March, 1983 Education: M.A. in English Literature ( Calcutta University ) Profession: Teacher Publications: Three books of poems: Patanmoner Kursi (2016), Kono Ekta Naam(2013), Jatadur Boidho Boli (2009) Contact: eijeanimikh@gmail.com

You might also like

Novelist Marion Molteno in talks with Tanvir Ratul

Marion Molteno is a South-African novelist. She grew up in South Africa but had to leave it after being involved in student protests against the apartheid regime. She spent 8

Ins and Outs & Other Poems

The first gardenia smells of fresh skin the second is naked body that sweats and drags itself between the sheets the rest I cut their throats so as not to

My Elder Brother & Other poems

An important Bengali poet of 80’s, Dhiman Chakraborty was born and brought up in Kolkata. The first edited magazine by Chakraborty was ‘Aalaap’ (Introduction / Conversation). In the year of

I’m a dropout horse

I always suffer from the dilemma whether poetry can at all be “translated”. These one-liners have been translated, with necessary changes in some texts, keeping in mind the main spirit

Eternal Mulberry: Manindra Gupta

Translator’s Note: Akkhay Mulberry Vol.1 [Trans. Eternal Mulberry] is an auto-biographical sketch of Manindra Gupta – an eminent writer of Bengal who has been penning poems, short stories, and novel

Christmas & Other Poems

Birth of a feeling And the dogs groan … to make them satiate and sedate a night was made Intercourses, cold – to be performed crossing the greedy voyeurs of

The Letters by Laura Pugno

Laura Pugno was born in 1970 in Rome, Italy. Her publications include four novels, “La caccia” (Ponte alle Gra­­zie 2012), “Antartide“ (Minimum Fax 2011), Quando verrai” (Minimum Fax 2009) and

What I’ll Wear to Your Funeral & Other Poems:Vasudha Pande

Inspiration will not come to you nor will it lie hidden waiting to be put in your pocket this creature it is not a tease nor does it know its

Nostalgia and Other Poems

grief I stood there, awash with sand dunes I never visit one foot twisted inside of itself: coquette, doll-thing. my father’s words washed over me, this script my antique. I

Book & Film 0 Comments

Inception and the Philosophy of Mind

“Admit it. You no longer believe in one reality. So choose. Choose to be here. Choose me”. These enigmatic dialogues, directed towards Dominic Cobb are spoken by his subconscious which

Ghazal for Goregaon & Other Poems

Alone When my friends left the country, one by one, I ate and drank and sang at their farewells, talking of how true friendships last across the tunnel of distance.

Manolis Anagnostakis: The existentialist silence of post-war Greece

One of the most significant poets of Greece after World War II, Manolis Anagnostakis was in reality a practicing radiologist. The distraction created by two completely different facets of life—poetry

The Mask & Other Poems : Nand Kishore Acharya

The Flute: The Peacock’s Feather ‘Hope you do not mind If I refuse to be Your flute any longer Not that I feel neglected – Rather I was well-placed On

Gaajan -A Hindu Folk Festival: Biswarup Saha

Gaajan is a Hindu festival associated with deities Shiva, Neel and Dharmathakur. Gajan spans around a week, starting at the last week of Choitro continuing till the end of the

Scent of Women & Other Poems

The last line Two consecutive lines of a poem Always have an ego clash. Who’ll seat beneath? Who cares? No one wants to… But one has to sit. The succeeding

Authors 0 Comments

The Lobster, Yorgos Lanthimos’ latest masterpiece

« I’m sure that there are people who really like what we do and others who don’t[…] I just think it is interesting to start a dialogue », Yorgos Lanthimos, leading figure

Strawberries

“A being which exists before it can be defined by any conception of it is human reality” – Heidegger. Reality is a female. Reality – of self– decaf/short/syrup/lait. That exists

Ahalya of the rock & Other poems: KGS Pillai

Ahalya of the rock Leader of the mission to protect the hermits stood on a jungle rock watching the forest dwellers’ heads floating down the wild stream. “step away ,

Diaspora, Critical Theories, and Death of Language: Ahmed Shams’ analysis

Avik Gangopadhyay has both critical and creative writings to his credit published in esteemed journals and leading newspapers. A post-Graduate in English Language and Literature from Jadavpur University, Kolkata. He

Excerpt from a Dream

And when realization struck the ethereal bird singing away a faint melody that scored the background of a vague dream, it muted itself. The virtual creature refused to carry its

0 Comments

No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply