—Poetry by Sayani Mukherjee, Chandannagar,
West Bengal, India
—Public Domain Photos
THE LITTLE SNAKE
Sickly fingers of her grandmother's touch
Always framed her into automatic writing—
That subconscious flow of hidden snakes
Swirling each page, shedding the rock bottom.
Tasting her sour-lemon pie frisked
Her lips into a tangerine melody
She murmured to her
Of watching comedy at random
Of Topsy-turvy churning of the global circus.
At thirty, she spoke again to
Her grandmother's frame.
Each conversation blooded with a touch
Of seasoned fragrance.
Spring she loved the most
Its dust-coloured March days
When she petaled her body by the
Orange veranda.
Her skin glowed of a supple jasmine tree
And just then her little snake started
To shed her white skin.
Sickly fingers of her grandmother's touch
Always framed her into automatic writing—
That subconscious flow of hidden snakes
Swirling each page, shedding the rock bottom.
Tasting her sour-lemon pie frisked
Her lips into a tangerine melody
She murmured to her
Of watching comedy at random
Of Topsy-turvy churning of the global circus.
At thirty, she spoke again to
Her grandmother's frame.
Each conversation blooded with a touch
Of seasoned fragrance.
Spring she loved the most
Its dust-coloured March days
When she petaled her body by the
Orange veranda.
Her skin glowed of a supple jasmine tree
And just then her little snake started
To shed her white skin.
FAIRY TALE
Amidst bow ties and diamond-cut pieces
I merely fly as a paper flower.
The petals curl with wispy cigar rain
Of high towers and aristocratic boot finish.
Toes of my fairytale are untied with
Cheeky freewill of kites
Usurping the limitless monarchy
Of nature's very own.
Dragonflies, butterflies abound in
Manuscript of scholars,
The pages carry the dissection of
Each organ in plenty.
While my notebook flowers in dried leaves
Of an unknown local tree.
Amidst bow ties and diamond-cut pieces
I merely fly as a paper flower.
The petals curl with wispy cigar rain
Of high towers and aristocratic boot finish.
Toes of my fairytale are untied with
Cheeky freewill of kites
Usurping the limitless monarchy
Of nature's very own.
Dragonflies, butterflies abound in
Manuscript of scholars,
The pages carry the dissection of
Each organ in plenty.
While my notebook flowers in dried leaves
Of an unknown local tree.
. . . with simmering red poppies . . .
DARK BLUE STAR
The first ticking comes from the head
Then all the lucidity swipes into
An unauthorized jerking.
Son to father he moulded
Digging each layer of mudding
Until the breaking of darkness
That cropped up his vision
With simmering red poppies.
So far he summoned the
Sun to wrap up his untold stories
Into a dark blue star.
The signal was a big horizontal
Electric wave.
And when the monitor beeped through
He knew the lights over the
Dark marble plane.
Peeling off the corn from the flask
Or catching the trout over a frippery ocean
He learnt to file a big lawsuit.
Watching Polanski on screen
And his big mansion of well-off eye candy
He, an amateur, starts to dream.
Changing his gear through inwardness
He channeled his manliness into
A big fiery bomb
And his external reality died down
Into the stars.
. . . in my wildflower basket of naïvety . . .
TINY SCRATCHES
Scrambling flecks of emotions
I have gathered—
In my wildflower basket of naïvety
That dismantles with just
A tiny gesture.
I have gathered the habit
From my mother's gene
To make mountains out of molehills.
Tiny little pebbles that bruise my cheek
With tiny scratches.
You throw that, in surplus—
It makes you playful and virile.
But at the end of courtship
When I feel amused
By all the brittle red pitching
I gain a masochistic gain.
And I wet the clouds with your kind words.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.
―Martin Luther King Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches
___________________
Sayani Mukherjee, another international poet visiting us this week, is a writer and researcher who hails from Chandannagar, a former French colony in West Bengal, India. Recently she received her post-graduate degree in English from Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi. Her creative work has been published in the literary magazine of her alma mater. An ardent love of literature, her works have appeared in various reputed international and national magazines and journals. Currently she is part of the international anthology of poems, Paradise on Earth. She likes to engage her leisure time in photography, cinema and arts. Again, welcome to the Kitchen, Sayani, and don’t be a stranger!
For more about Chandannagore, go to travel.emerstal.com/chandannagar/.
___________________
—Medusa, in joy at meeting poets from other continents!
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