Poetry

Poetry

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* Aritry Das is currently pursuing her post-graduation in Journalism. She takes photographs, writes poems, listens to ghazals, and propounds a little bit of Anarchism...

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There is a due process to someone's leaving. There is a farewell, An expectation of return, Or a recognition of the finality of going.   Even in a farce,...

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for Alfred Corn A boy, I stole into grandpa’s study. An art dealer, he loved books with gilded edges, Aristotle to Zola all stuck together in the humidity. I snuck Lo out to his...

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Of thoughts divested of the language that narrates them, Of minds and imaginations captured and purged of their dreams, Of painters without hands, dancers paralyzed chest downwards, young who are old, and dimpled faces...

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How is Kashmir, Toru? Dear Toru, my letters to your brother elaborate on how our colony was burnt. Remember our colony, Toru? The man-holes, the electric wires? The transformer would...

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An island of a man Damn he's cursed Notice the palms of his hands Damn he's hurt Focus on this man With the color of dirt Sketched in with coal So...

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My heart cried after mass collided with mass.. The blast deafening.. What's left is flesh turned to ash.. Our own reckoning.. When can we scream at last at...

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Deep and deep into the woods I would sink; on and on would I walk; till I reach the forest hoods! Shepherd; aah! Be that I could! Taking...

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Crowning his Friday After the disastrous snow Blood-stained his threshing lines Life's receding billow Will leave him for the eternal calm He is yet to know.   Out from his threads...

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How desperate we are to laugh- To chime with a can of laughter- Exhaling nervous relief, Reassured that it wasn't a can of worms.   A concert is over. See...

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