This year, to observe 16 December, we have curated a list of four diverse yet fascinating poetry books for you to immerse yourself in.
My Bangla Sings out every morning One language Many songs
I fell asleep to the chatters of cicadas on a quiet summer night
A long stretch of time / passed in prison
Women and the earth have to tolerate a lot. –Kaajal (1965)
My heart is an oligarch: A staunch, pot-bellied, knuckle-cracking middle-aged man lounging carelessly, lazily in his sitting room with his limbs spread out on a settee
I spent the last night with your lover
Healthy water-bodies are sunk by envy-blind waste’s outburst
I carry them openly in these calloused hands and hold them out to you could you tell me I'm worthy of love
This year, to observe 16 December, we have curated a list of four diverse yet fascinating poetry books for you to immerse yourself in.
My Bangla Sings out every morning One language Many songs
I fell asleep to the chatters of cicadas on a quiet summer night
A long stretch of time / passed in prison
Women and the earth have to tolerate a lot. –Kaajal (1965)
Healthy water-bodies are sunk by envy-blind waste’s outburst
I spent the last night with your lover
My heart is an oligarch: A staunch, pot-bellied, knuckle-cracking middle-aged man lounging carelessly, lazily in his sitting room with his limbs spread out on a settee
When Anne Carson said– All lovers believe they are inventing love, she was perhaps right
I carry them openly in these calloused hands and hold them out to you could you tell me I'm worthy of love
