Inside the puddingland


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Thursday, November 19, 2009

Angela



1. A Room in the rain



lights that shimmer in pain,

your anklets stab the silence



your face cracks down

in cinders of snow

as my smiles go up in mist



and we are floating again,

in a song-boat

on the fringes of this night



Angela,

these tunes are false

that snake in through your window

with the soot of the city



your hair streams down

like the raging skyline,

your sleeves are dripping with rain



your fingers scurry with joy

for a last shelter,

as I document your touch

in peace



Angela,

let’s burgle these clouded doors

that stand between us now

like night patrollers



and unhide the soft contours

of veiled delight



let reflections change forever

as we manufacture love

in this rain room



and when the night shrinks in sleep,

you shall search for a poet

who lives in songs



while I travel

through old diaries

for the ruins of your smiles



2. Last Station of love



Angela,

what was bothering you that day

when you took the night train

at the last junction?



light years in thought;

we lived a month on missed calls

and nothing else



whatever was left in the city

except the ghosts of a few poets

and nude strangers?



Angela,

we’re waiting

at the last station

of love



we’ve been waiting for years now

and colliding at times

in dream



when time breaths

in tiny splinters of sight

like another illusion



or the river curls up

at the solstice of vision



Angela,

we shall then meet across the waters

of this tiny blue opera glass



and try to read our past

in the fast headlight

of some passing vehicle



we shall glide on sounds

across the harbours of this city



we shall haunt

the windows of sleep

this December



as the moon

like a snowrose sickle,

hangs from her hinges



29 comments:

"Sunshine" said...

Hi Deep,

How is school going? I saw that you posted a new poem, so I thought I'd send you a comment.

I think the second part of the poem, which you titled, "Last Station of love" is the best. I really like both the train and ghost motifs. Granted, trains have been done, but I don't seem to tire of them. There's just something about a train--usually it signifies parting of some sort, whether short or long term. Also, I tend to associate trains with noir. Which reminds me, when I read your poetry, my mind's eye sees lots of shadows and darkness. It is eerie, but not frightening. If that makes any sense. My favorite line is:

"whatever was left in the city
except the ghosts of a few poets
and nude strangers?"

Keep up the good work!

deepteshpoetry said...

Please chk out our Jude blog at www.voiceofjude.blogspot.com

zorlone said...

Very good imagery, the thoughts about the rain and the train and the diary. This is beautiful.

So, like Sunshine, I hope you are serious with school work bro. Keep writing and we'll be here to comment.

Z

Americanising Desi said...

what can i say but 'beautiful indeed'

you have caught me in a moment where everything is happening right before my eyes :)

SandyCarlson said...

It is nice to see your writing again. Beautiful, candid.

Somewhere Circus said...

DeepteshInFlames, in beats me why you should want us to even give you feedbacks on these magicals things that you create.
As I had said on the first day I read them both...these are the first poems of yours which I can relate to in a very personal way.
You, Dude-in-flames, are one furious genius.

Anne said...

This is so beautiful. You are very talented. You caught me right at the beginning with "your face cracks down in cinders of snow as my smiles go up in mist" Wonderful image! Keep up the great work!

windless said...

Your poetry is BEAUTIFUL...no second thoughts on that...but your subject and style seems to me to be repeating themselves infinitely. Try and explore different areas of poetic field which seems to be clogged up in a dreamy and sur-real brand of romanticism...What is the geo-political function of poetry?... Do you consider yourself to be a British poet or an Indian poet who writes in English (even though you may have no bones to pick with the Indian English poetic canon)? This is no attack...please do not take it as one...just a serious question that I wanted to ask you...Your poetry has some local markers (e.g. the park Street poem), but then, you hardly seem to represent in any way, an Indian mood/temper/atmosphere/condition! Be a bit more experimental with your poems... All the great poets in the world have broken the types where they have excelled and moved on to create a greater landscape of poetical experience...All the best...

Cassiopeia Rises said...

Ah but this is lovely. True it is also sad but I loved the line "and when the night shrinks in sleep"
A beautiful song of love.


love, Melanie

Ed Adams said...

I don't know much about poetry, but it seems pretty good to me.

Dipankar Lahiri said...

It is pretty blasphemous isnt it to ravage posts of this sort by leaving comments like 'ki dile boss!'? I will therefore not and say something like 'great poetwork'. Living on missed calls. Oh ki darun!

Marja said...

Beautiful images, excellent poem. you're becoming better and better

Anushka said...

One of your best.

Revived Angel... said...

I read d poem a 2nd time to zero in on a single line dat i loved d best..bt fortunately enuf, couldn't..I like d 1st part bettr though..
your fingers scurry with joy for a last shelter..unhide the sopft contours of veiled delight..you shall search for a poet who lives in songs..I travel through old diaries for the ruins of your smiles..
Loved all of these to bits..one of the best poetries i've cum across recently..Keep up the good wrk.

floreta said...

very vivid imagery, my friend!

jiniya said...

i lovd dis 1.... nice wrk dude...
as xpctd... wondrful presentatn n beautifuly detaild imaginatn....
gr8... keep it up!!! :)

Reeju says... said...

kichu bolar nei for the simple reason that amar vocabulary very very poor and hence i can't come up with the choicest words to vent my feeling

Julia Smith said...

Seems like a relationship that doesn't have good timing. But it creates good poetry!

I love these lines:

'and we are floating again,
in a song-boat
on the fringes of this night'

Vita Stunder said...

I really love your way of expression.
Keep on writing!
You're talented :)

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Sepiru Chris said...

Hi Deeptesh,

I arrive via the Monday Train.

My preference, by far, was part 2. You are gifted at crafting word images, I quite enjoy, for example, "we lived a month on missed calls
and nothing else".

My challenge with the first part of the poem was it psychedelic nature, places.

Images like that evoked by "cinders of snow" were too dissonant for me to enjoy. It pulls me out of the poem as I try to imagine what it is that you intend us to see.

I love the next stanza "and we are floating again, in a song-boat on the fringes of this night" but then I get stopped by an image like "your hair streams down like the raging skyline". Skylines stand up against the sky, they don't stream down. Unless, in recent times, there is a significant terrorist attack. This also, for example, pulled me out of your poem.

And, part two brought me in with some lovely images.

Thanks for sharing your work.

Tschuess,
Chris

Riddhi G.D said...

living on missed calls! i weep, i identify so much with this!
but on another note, i like the lyricism

Deeptesh said...

@ everyone

thanks

atindriyo said...

Crimson words!

Rye.. said...

The tinkering anklets lit up my day :)

Keep up the good work.
Rye Di is impressed!~

Trisha said...

I like the imagery of the stabbing anklets a LOT. and living on missed calls for a month! and i like the term snowrose sickle. i'm very impressed, deeptesh. definitely one of your best :-)

The Girl With The Broken Smile said...

One of ur best deeptesh!i noticed this poem long ago but didn't read it until now..dunno why..perhaps it was my intuition!my situation right now is nothing like what u have described yet i feel like i can identify with it and that 2 me,is the the mark of a good poet...keep it up buddy!

Deeptesh said...

thank u all!!!

Saima Afreen said...

You create magic buddy... One word for your poem: awesome :)