So go in peace, be free, be kind.
You thought you had escaped, didn't you? / Outran everything that weighed you down
A quiet, seniority in its touch, / A tenderness that feels like it's meant to last
Sometimes at early dawn / You overpower my eyelids / And won’t let me wake up
I love the texture of your hair and I wanted to tell you about it in far too many words than either you or I are comfortable with.
We'll put up feigned politicians / And their fake promises instead
Who do I tell, sir? The walls do not listen, The roads do not answer back
Here are a few things I learned in the one month we haven’t spoken
you don't recognise yourself, / everything is lost like a fish in Lethean space. / you have mistaken truth for love again
Some label you a poet of love so true
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
