Poetry by Rajorshi Patranabis

RECLUSE

As the sea breeze brushed through my eyes, cleansing my nostrils managing to whisper into my ears, I smiled in an exulted exuberance. It had been a journey of colours from blue to green to violet and so many more.

"How much do you know me?"

" Well, for hundreds of years... "

" How do you say this?"

 portals

of mellowed concentric

 reconstructions

This journey has hopes of culminating into the next one. I wait. 
Recluse.


DEMISE

I write about you. A story with oxymorons of ecstatic numbness peeps into my lost longing. I die again to live with your happiness. 

demise --

rekindled hopes 

dance to breath

I sustain to be the carcass of your pains.


DESTINY

 I looked around in dismay. A ditch of my own catastrophic recklessness.

Did I hear something?

No, I didn't... Maybe, I did.

Did I hear him call "Radha"?

 They say, I fell for a dark God. They also say, that he loved me dearly too.

 destiny --

 pickled in greasy detriments

 blissful pain

He belongs to all. I belong to Him.


BURNT ICE 

Yamuna is puritan and so am I. She's polluted and so am I.
 But how's it so, that, she keeps on flowing and I struggle to move? And, moreover, she's the lifeline of Vrindavan, while, I am a piece of destitution, a sympathy for some, a joke for others.

Why?

 And you say, You're God. You are a liar, a debauch.

ripples

flashed purges of divine

mouth reincarnates

I know, and you know too... Molten snow is Yamuna --

Burnt ice is Radhika.


PRONOUNCED 

It was an afternoon of awkwardness and the rains called our shots. It was that stubborn stone, with imprints of holding hands. Your Radhika has blocked herself now.

return

righteous scoops of time

wait

You lived to love again, I was pronounced death -- till I die.