Sunrise at Kanchenjunga from Tiger Hills, Darjeeling.
Blue Sunbirds haunt this region. They Convert this hill into an odeum. At five a.m, tree branches sway When dawn winds blow, making a constant hum. By six, a gradual colour change Occurs above the distant mountain range.
The sky, once lazuli and white, Gets flooded by the hue of orange-gold From Heaven's massive source of light. The tourists, standing cheek by jowl, behold This incandescent spectacle Like witnessing a one-time miracle.
The children are moon-eyed and thrilled, Adults and elders bow in adoration (As if to God Himself), all stilled, When Kangchenjunga gets its coronation, And youngsters click and store this view Until that light has fully bathed them too.
Shamik Banerjee is a poet from India. He resides in Assam with his parents and works for a local firm. His poems have appeared in Fevers of the Mind, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and Westward Quarterly, among others, and some of his poems are forthcoming in Willow Review and Ekstasis, to name a few.
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
In Cherry Blossom Forecast, Suzanne Kamata brings the Japanese ritual of cherry blossom viewing to our pages with her camera and words. Clickhere to read.
Before the bombings, I was not aware That homes, like humans, could get orphaned too. Built by a wealthy merchant's wealthy heir, I've held this ground since 1992.
I've witnessed nicety, hope during pain, Devoutness, goodwill, and pragmatic views In those five souls I roofed, who once sustained Me with dense quicksets, sconces, and bright hues.
They say love's sown with hopes of its return, But I had failed to be a loyal friend That ill-starred night, when swiftly, turn by turn, Those cruel projectiles brought my family's end.
The lattices (my forearms) crumpled first, And then the heavy gambrel roof (my head) Fell on my sleeping members as the burst Of asphalt shingles claimed them on their beds.
But greater is my guilt from treachery; For now, I'm slave to foes, who triumph, shout On my own land, spit at our dignity. Oh, how I strongly wish to drive them out!
Shamik Banerjee is a poet from India. He resides in Assam with his parents and works for a local firm. His poems have appeared in Fevers of the Mind, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and Westward Quarterly, among others, and some of his poems are forthcoming in Willow Review and Ekstasis, to name a few.
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Borderless 