Snata Basu

Snata Basu is a writer based in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Her poetry has appeared on numerous literary platforms including The Opiate, Visual Verse: An Online Anthology of Art and Words and Small World City.

Writing a memoir

There’s a purgatorial break between these stretches …flaxen against the lights

5d ago

Titled 'Loss'

you don't recognise yourself, / everything is lost like a fish in Lethean space. / you have mistaken truth for love again

3m ago

Of longings, of belongings

Women and the earth have to tolerate a lot.  –Kaajal (1965)

7m ago

Devi

The first pulse, in the midst of a whipping maelstrom, 

8m ago

Look out the windows

In the blanks of muddy moonlight

10m ago

Dawn of new(?) air

But talks of harmony flood your nose. / Harmony, harmony, harmony—you want it so bad, / and so you put words in our mouths

10m ago

Raw Magnolias

This is a garden, these are my petals; this is my armoring plant

1y ago

Sleepy ghost flight

You have made ice out of my heart;/ we were once nothing–you brutalise me

1y ago
June 21, 2025
June 21, 2025

Writing a memoir

There’s a purgatorial break between these stretches …flaxen against the lights

March 1, 2025
March 1, 2025

Titled 'Loss'

you don't recognise yourself, / everything is lost like a fish in Lethean space. / you have mistaken truth for love again

November 23, 2024
November 23, 2024

Of longings, of belongings

Women and the earth have to tolerate a lot.  –Kaajal (1965)

October 12, 2024
October 12, 2024

Devi

The first pulse, in the midst of a whipping maelstrom, 

August 24, 2024
August 24, 2024

Look out the windows

In the blanks of muddy moonlight

August 6, 2024
August 6, 2024

Dawn of new(?) air

But talks of harmony flood your nose. / Harmony, harmony, harmony—you want it so bad, / and so you put words in our mouths

June 8, 2024
June 8, 2024

Raw Magnolias

This is a garden, these are my petals; this is my armoring plant

March 21, 2024
March 21, 2024

Sleepy ghost flight

You have made ice out of my heart;/ we were once nothing–you brutalise me

February 10, 2024
February 10, 2024

palestine is my grieving mother

rise, rise—now evening dies: sun-born in valleys with burning olive trees—where  women like me plod one day at a time,

December 30, 2023
December 30, 2023

There is no water if i’m on water

I am put away impulsively like the totems on a modern alter