Paintscapes of Singing

—Poetry by Sayani Mukherjee, Chandannagar, 

W. Bengal, India

—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain

DARK ALLEY

The higher power is a dark realm
A pregnant egg of alluring fantasies
Laced with savages
Of nobility of muzzled openings.
I wish upon the cave
Abandoned, ruggedly inspired
Diabolically and Divinely
Closed-off stream of a simple stare
A sudden maneuver
Peeping slowly, hooking within
The black cuckoo is always nasty
Her songs, mythically beautiful
Tap dance within her bosom fare
Rides my homebody fevers.

An abandoned alley smudged between
Practicalities mundane
My paper knife to hold my worth
Sweepingly not to prove anything
Just a sullen sweet song
To lie beside me the lake house ground
To build nests
Green reds blacks ribboned whites
Ego death of survival guide
My womanly virtue-vices
Boldness coyness
All dived down—
Under the cave the siren song
The dark alley
Allowing the evenings to drop down
Hushly steadily making no noise
The evening prayers
Higher powers
Dark coins
The woman, a dark alley. 

 

 

 

 

 

GREEN

Awake to the surrounding—
The lime that is freshly given,
A sumptuous gift.
Divine feminine and Universal harmony
Grazing luscious green tumbling
Forever anew.
Fresh drops and confined circles
Turning grief-rivers in white aromas
Of smell sniffing
Nature's basic instincts
Coupling harmony meadows deep inside
The Earth river flows through
Tiny bushes like thoughts, sip of
Rejuvenation
Soaking in the green wilderness
The link for unison.

Understanding comes at the heart
Awakening swollen mid-October
The lily mossed burnt cross
Melts
The river soaks it all
Salem haunts and fiery furnace
It smooths the rocks
Universal harmony
The pasture the innocent invitation
Lamb-grazed Christ consciousness
Of all embracing synchronized green
The feminine vastness
Bountiful art like
Meadows deep down inside
It rains. 

 

 

 

 

RED

Hands on my night-brimmed pockets—
Diamonds and rusts as the song said
Penny for unkempt days
Diaries and flash fictions
Dreary and turbulent
Easy enough to pass on the moving choir.

Lullabies of my frisky fall days
My eyes on the outside autumn
A wishful longing
To taste the over-brimmed autumn
In a soulful cup
Oversoul and honey quartz,
And homecoming with conjoined hands.

Sometimes my vulnerable steps
Paint ducked-off lines
I want to make mandalas of
Saturated bliss
As poetry says bliss and autumn come
together.
Two red hats sunbeamed musk roses.

Across the new building
A new wall of a graffiti of a modern art
Mon amor days of scented candles
I want to stick chapsticks
And paper flowers on my fragile necklace.

My red-veined fear
No more fear of the vulnerable steps
Autumn will dress us for growth
To make a saturated redness
Under the heavy fall
And the striped stream that calls on me
Come over and drape in bliss. 

 

 

 

 

TATTOOED

Uniquely designed for mainstream
A six-figured tattooed butterfly
On my back
A pat at my shoulder
A beam in my poem
Treehouse and childplay things
My proof of itsy bitsy rock paper scissors
A friendship bracelets with red ribbon
White-washed marooned island
Over my chest
It stays when I form a circle of mates—
Three Pentagons diaphragmatic
Radio shows on for Friday nights
Modernist nonsense and my
Jabberwocky tricks
I form my bracelets with my
Tattoed fingertips.
My jinx my pixie dust my childlike wonder
A little sparkle did no wonder
Red bracelets white-washed marooned island
I hum at my lost poem
A sudden omission at the back
A little pinch of dusty drives
Underneath a new edge control
Completing of a poem for the
Medal gold
I hope my pixie dust will do
Good for nothing
For this electric haze on my tattooed butterfly soul. 

 

 

 

 

EARTH

Ocean's bed and pearled moonlight
Under the riverbed beams
Of Musk Roses and Hawthorn bliss
Come vapours of cemetery sweet.
A ringing sunshine of a joyous basket
Two, three foldings that give light
A simplicity to the matters of the heart
And paintscapes of singing
Light as light
Night as darkness.
Red and ruins
Instincts and inner joy
Burnings, labyrinths of mazy flow of life
Run havoc to the earth's summit
My mystery moon and riverbed clouds
Hung a simple sweet bliss.

______________________

Today’s LittleNip:

 

Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. 

—Anton Chekhov

 
______________________

Our thanks to Sayani Mukherjee from India for her poems today, with images of autumn and tattooed butterflies and her mystery moon.

Today, Sac. Poetry Alliance presents Yuyutsu Sharma, Katy Brown and Allegra Silberstein plus open mic at 1169 Perkins Way, Sacramento, starting at 4pm. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about this and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.

______________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 “…my tattooed butterfly soul.”

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