Categories
Poetry

Eclipse

By Smitha Sehgal

ECLIPSE

Sometimes I pencil an octave across
the sky, when it grows blue, I sense 
the sea burn and blisters on my skin. 
When I was younger, I used to wonder 
why seagulls in certain oceans had to 

sound like falcons toward the onset 
of autumn. I belong to that ocean where 
Odysseus returned to Ithaca slaying 
the lotophagi. Borne of thought, 
in the cast of Pallas, we could persuade 

Neptune without a disguise or Ravan 
without burning the island. Yet a woman
has to grow into a blood moon sometimes, 
grow an arc to leap across the tides. 
At one point she would cross the boundaries 

of Earth and eclipse the shadows lurking
around the horizon. On the last day 
of spring,  hyacinths grow by the lagoon of 
rancour in the promise of redemption. I wonder 
how the female dragonfly deals with the times

she feels the need to rise beyond the lake 
and go right into the moon’s cold breath. 
Frozen in her words, I wonder how the female
centipede meets with an earthquake, 
in deep meditation inside the hollow of the oak tree.

Smitha Sehgal is a legal professional in Govt of India CPSE and a bilingual poet who writes in English and Malayalam. Her poems have been featured in contemporary literary publications such as Usawa Literary Journal, EKL Review, Madras Courier, Ink Sweat & Tears and elsewhere. 

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Categories
Poetry

Lockdown Blues

By Gopal Lahiri

.

Sometimes there is a night you just want

to get so far away from,

fire burns out in life’s long years,

memories are plucked, timid words wipe the window

long after the moon reaches its climax.

.

A strange world of quarantine is slowly

strumming with silence,

there is no paper, no blue ink —

envelopes never arrive, the inbox isn’t loaded with emails

it’s time to live with the lonely shadows.

.

The archipelago of hospitals empties sad memories,

patients fighting for life with short breaths

trip letters in social distancing,

no flowers, no relatives or friends

a virus attacks inside in a different trajectory.

.

The first layer of darkness hides the melody of stars

in alleys, in streets, in subways,

rewind the scene of weaning the ventilators.

many dead mothers have left their smiles over the corridor

on the margins of the white washed wall.

.

Form the undulations of courage and fear

eyes stare at the distant light,

the whispers are carrying alphabets of the dead planets

lying beneath the disposable trough.

there will be another universe to live for.

.

Gopal Lahiri is a Kolkata- based bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer and translator with 20 books published 13 in English and 7 in Bengali, including three joint books. His poetry is also published in various anthologies and in eminent journals of India and abroad. His poems have been published in 12 countries and translated in 10 languages. He has been invited in several poetry festivals across India.