Sunday, 3 February 2013






Here the shadows of your language
dance on each page I read
a raucous hawker finds new means
to sell outside on the street
the ceiling fan’s mirrored at the edge
of broken glass, the newsfeed
still and frozen on the screens
winter’s coming to an end
a season draws to a dazzling point
but nothing else begins

 

your hands the way they were
before they got cross-thatched with disease
your parched-earth heels strike the floor
oblivious to all defeat
the terrazzo’s chipped, indistinct colours,
worn divider strips, stiffened debilities;
rusty, weak hinges on open doors;
winter’s crumbling to an end
a season ducks to a frazzled point
but nothing else begins

 

there’s talk on the ledges of buildings
that you and I can’t understand
there’s no harm though in keeping ears pinned
while I read the shadow-dance
urban pigeons beat their wings
your house is quieter than we planned
just hawker-calls threaded on the winds;
winter’s stumbling to an end
a season drains to a senseless point
but nothing else begins

 

the radio tunes that I’d heard once
are no longer turned up at dawn
maybe it’s broken, or there’s a difference
in the music that comes on
your lobes hang heavy, a little misshapen
your senses a little withdrawn
your love’s stilled to a jangling silence;
winter’s fumbling to an end
a season clots to a clenched, tight point
but nothing else begins

 

love and anguish both masked easy
and pasts dance crisp on pages
your magazines are fragile, paper thin,
their editorials strange and dated
but flipping the corners keeps hands busy
and empties all mindspaces
of love that is, and can’t be, sanguine;
winter’s rustling to an end
a season falls to a tattooed point
but nothing else begins



Shared for OLN @ dVerse








© 2013 Nilanjana Bose

 

14 comments:

  1. winter’s rustling to an end
    a season falls to a tattooed point
    but nothing else begins....great ending to a beautiful poem!

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  2. there’s talk on the ledges of buildings
    that you and I can’t understand
    there’s no harm though in keeping ears pinned
    while I read the shadow-dance
    urban pigeons beat their wings


    I found these lines particularly memorable - well done. k.

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  3. hey you...smiles...good to see you back...your words are so fluid making some rather radical jumps every couple lines with imagery and thoughts..a very stream of conscious feel to this....the talk on the ledges was a line that jumped out at me...well i could relay back much of the poem to you...the crosshatched hands are evocative....lets just say i felt and enjoyed...smiles...

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    Replies
    1. Hi and its great to be back and great to see you here too, so much reading to catch up on that I don't know where to begin :) glad you felt and enjoyed the poem, no better feedback possible! thanks!

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  4. I also enjoy this ending and yes it is a great poem http://gatelesspassage.com/2013/02/02/reflections/

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    Replies
    1. Thank you for the comment and the link.

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  5. ugh..tough when things come to an end an nothing else begins...felt melancholy here..and great images you use..

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    Replies
    1. not every ending is necessarily a beginning..thank you.

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  6. Nilanjana, this is absolutely exquisite...full of details that create such a mood of poignancy. I think I've run out of superlatives to describe my response.

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    Replies
    1. Glad you liked it, and thank you for that very generous comment!

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  7. I like this very much. Wonderfully creative..just love how you included a 'point' in each stanza!

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