Poems—Taniya Chakraborty

The last line

They are calling me,

They are asking me for words and lines...

But will they read me that way?

Could they have the patience to absorb my words?

Will they think about how much air I need

For one line of lyrics?

Will they ever think,

After finishing one line, we lose one life,

As I am giving my life to the paper ineptly...

Will they give me an oxygen bottle

To breathe once more before death?

Will they?

Inherent 

Every day, I was losing myself;

Every day, I was recovering myself.

It's like open and close...

What an implicit irritation!

Oh! that this is the rhythm!

This is what's said or not to be said...

This is sleeping and awakening.

This is the enigma and clarity.

This is how heart cycles work.

This is how their valves work.

This is how fish gills work -

Open and close, achieving and leaving.

Inhale and exhale, life and death.

The ultimate,

What an

Unforgettable and inherent Rhythm we have....

Birth

Likewise, hair comes out on the shaved skull.

So, mother, I, your stubborn girl,

Emerged from you into another world.

They shouted happily,

"A baby, a new baby comes to the world!" Cheers for mothers.

But they don't even realize

I came here to compensate for the previous loss.

I was there, I am here, I will be.

But those innocent fellows,

Pity them, who are happy for the birth,

Because they don't enjoy when hair emerges,

They don't enjoy when nails grow.

They are laughing after the cord cuts,

So people don't feel the solitude's success.

They want expressions, they want the sound of crying.

They will never fully feel the cosmos,

They will never feel I was never born,

I just summoned after decades of silence.

They thought it's a cry.

Love and Flesh

My hundred words versus his one.

My dreamy butterflies and bright bougainvillea versus

His processing, venue, terms, and options.

He said, "You are my beloved girl, but you're not practical, darling."

I asked, "What is your practicality?"

He said, "Without enigma and flesh, just counting the bones,

Measuring the strength of bones, trying to build an emperor."

I asked, "For how many days do you want to hold the emperor?"

He replied, "As long as life exists."

I asked, "How long does life exist?"

He said he doesn't know.

I said, "I'm covering the void with the dream of flowers,

But you want to keep the void as it is."

So, you have none...

Neither the practicality, nor the enigma, nor the bones of an emperor.

Come again when you know what practicality is,

Then we'll cook the meat of love.