Juhi Chowdhury, a student if aerospace engineering in Bengal Engineering and Science University, Shibpur, debuts this week from India.
MORN REJOICES IT
Bees can forget nectar
Never the mother so to break the sleep time
Of her child,
Kissing on her forehead at the first sunshine…
Eyes are veriest reluctant to exfoliate
Owing to lapping up the elixir,
That still is found to ooze out from dreamdale,
And to infuse a new paean
Gaily dressed with colourful sensation.
Mother is dragged to incertitude-
Should she louse up the child’s tender toes
At the fluff of fancy,
But the sun flares up round ablaze,
Couch sees off the comfort,
Commotion marches out on paseo.
“Doll, wake up dear and kiss me so
To unfurl my motherly love”
She tosses fingers of the little coaster
And taps her fleecy cheek
Brushing a sanguine soft on snow;
The child unleashes swaying phantom
In a slower pace,
Yawns smoking in fumes of adoration,
And deluges the mother’s face
With succulent smile’s praise.
Heaven hovers here at the first sight
Of child at the mother’s glimpse:
Morn rejoices it after the black night
Being blessed with prospering might
In eternal bliss…
THE WINGLESS FLIES
My wingless back ne’er cries for wings,
My mind has its own
To make me fly high
Above the hills and sky.
The tailor of my wings is me,
Efficient enough to knit my fancy tight
To hold me floating beside clouds-
A vast realm of my own-
A blue burst of freedom.
I am alive alone,
Rest seems a painting o’er yon,
Stillness beneath flatters me more
To flap my wings whining
Uninterrupted, unseen before.
Birds fiddle leaving a leisure to their wings
To welcome this wingless guest
In their vintage abode.
THE AFTERMATH OF POWER-CUT
Off and on,
My erstwhile nights couldn’t be illumed
By fluorescent lamp
For the aftermath of power-cut-
Incapability of science and a fleck of pleasure of mine!
Beside a window, covering dust with gown,
My vision, piercing the devil-dark,
Would lose in unforeseen amorphous reverie
Amongst the twinkling stars
And hypnotizing prolonged chirr.
Mind meandered whistling in a muse
Meddling the meditating solemnity,
Gaining a curse or blessing to fuse
A tranquil company
Of a floating ponderer;
In an idle gesture I cast up an unsmiling slice,
To my wonder it backed down smiling
What magic did the hollow-eyed darkness throw? So nice!
It waxed my lips with dots of joy
Discovering a treasure of tongued moments
From the fossil-days with doy-
Nobody could view the fact,
Only I and the grave night
Witnessed the gift of black glow
And the broken love’s pat!
Sudden illumination of the lamp gave pain to eyes
And dampened the consistent flow
With a sigh!
I saw off the darkness and flew a kiss
Aiming at the boy
Of my past love,
And pointed my heal at the bright world of module.
ROSE— FEEDING ONLY THE EYES
My skin sloughs off…
Roses are dressed with thorns
Like beauty protected in armour,
And my heart mourns!
But a constant provocation whispers,
And lies…I know
Ne’er it will turn the snow
Of my within with glow
Into the waterfall
Where the spring hovers over all.
Kisses are the clicks of moment-
Red leaves denser remnant,
Eyes are fed, skin unfed,
Breath—laden for the spread of drunkenness
Drunkards are blamed at the end!
I’ve seen the petals to be winglets of love
Chained as the guards intend.
Just I hope for the person to free them off…
Stuffed memories wearing off through the folded corner
Of photographs as if fleeing through the flaws,
Moments are lost, now dying striking each second;
Faces are getting pale, yet,
Irony banters unseemly, why this befooling?
I feel only a vacuum in my lungs, nothingness chills!
Capture nothing, the next day it stultifies.
No matter whether I press my feet on ground or wheel it in air,
Experiencing slide show of Worth
Some of what are gone unperceived, undecorated.
Let them get matt, let them get lost, let them get reduced to ashes.
Yet capture nothing, the next day it kills the rest.
I am Juhi Chowdhury from India, studying aerospace engineering in Bengal Engineering and Science University,Shibpur. I love to serve my mind with poetry and dance.I am a classical dancer( Kathak and Bharatnatyam) too.I started writing poetry since I was in class-III in my mother-tongue(Bengali).My poems have been published in BECA, a magazine of university fest; Asian American Poetry,The Enchanting Verses Literary Review,Wilderness House Literary Review,Kritya, Frogcroon and a book-review by me was published in Indian Book Reviews.
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011