Poetryzine magazine presents the selected poems by the Indian poet Suchismita Ghoshal
No Name, No Exaggeration, No Exhibition
Busy roads are terrifying me,
My tremor gets triggered,
My eyes, witnessing a traffic jam of precious tear-drops,
This feeling is terrible
As if the moments won't go anywhere
Before slicing me into pieces
And licking my blood.
I sit here to find calmness
Whereas the Blurry visions tempting me
more to furiously write, rather to create hurdles.
I wish he could understand how much it takes
To unearth the heart from its roots,
To ironically mix it's scarlet blood in the water,
To sacrifice everything into one moment
And then to start from scratch with a stitched foolish heart.
My heart, it has been stabbed numerous times,
Also my fault was to allow it to get swayed away
With the oppressiveness of betrayals,
Maybe he is not among the one,
Maybe he wants me or he wants me not,
Maybe anything that matters to me
Is simply a glass of water to him.
Sabotage can be picturized
Through the clean floor as if the dust
have been swiped away with the mass of the floor.
Bereavement is my entity,
Pointing me repeatedly, pricking me for a lot of time,
poking me to vomit the vexation out
The hollow body can't go straight
With the unending softness of my soul.
I feel finished here right at the moment
And the swiftness of the crowd chops my body into pieces.
Damn! I had been there before,
Surmising the agony of treachery for several times.
Scorching heat of summer teases me with the thirst,
Even the quench can't satisfy the dried, withered mind,
I feel "let me burn, let me burn, let me turn into ashes with my highly insatiable being"
I feel each moment is the tragic reflection of its previous moment.
I feel hurt, I feel less, I feel more, I feel the feelings are over-jewelled,
I can't cajole myself now as if it's not effective anymore.
The winds are caged,
Sticking to the bars of restrictions,
The atmosphere infringes the situation,
Ceasing everything which is caught red hand of disobedience.
I couldn't help but scribbling anything that scratches at this moment,
I heart each hurt,
To hardly help to overcome hurdles.
I don't want to be a sad poet - a sudden click on my head,
My head is heading towards the home,
I have to reach home with a pair of empty hands
And a lot of conjugated letters.
Threat, you're re-invited,
Now push me into the abyss of ancient failure
Like the way you do,
Like the way you did,
Like the way you shall be doing!
Poem to you
Drunken roads lead me to you,
To your scented long dense hair,
Sometimes they are open
Like the vast bluish sky,
Sometimes two gorgeous strands
Are loosely falling down kissing your ears,
Sometimes the tight bun makes you
Look like an elegant queen.
The charm of your closure
Sentimentally smits me,
I forget what's wrong and what's right,
What is the limit and where to go beyond that,
How to pertain perseverance
And when to create chaos out of excitement
To see you lying on a lush green meadow?
I forget all of these, all of these elating trepidations.
Oceanic eyes could be yours,
But yours are the hazel green,
Wanting to be loved like the verdant nature,
Longing to be caressed with the purity of fingers,
Where solace could be reciprocated,
Phenomena could be resurrected,
Destruction could be horribly beautified
And love could be astonishingly rejuvenated.
How I wish I could see your painting,
Charmingly smiling like Monalisa,
Captivating the audience in a large art gallery,
Guiding some lost lovers with the antidote
Of healings, peace, genuinity and tenderness.
You are the artist and also the art,
The wonders are within your soul
As you create and you are the creation in a parallel world.
Intoxication flows within my veins,
Barricading me with the ecstasy of drowning.
I feel I am driven from one end to another,
Carrying the cramming of river-water.
I love the engrossing struggles
Perfectly engraved in our journey,
Whereas I crave for you to be mine
And my soul craves for your soul to own.
This earth has witnessed great love-stories
Since ages, to every corner where
Humans can dwell and leave their footprints.
I believe ours is not exclusive,
But a unique one indeed as I still haven't
Seen you, but surrendered myself
To your bewitching aura with my everything-
A little bit tormenting to my heart.
Perhaps you are far, perhaps you are close
It will be an epic unison when I shall collide with you.
Strive towards positivity
My mind, a well full of positivity
Strives towards a bright future;
A future that will hold no grudges of past,
A future that will have no crestfallen memories,
A future that will peep through the web of success
And a future that will promise hunger for betterment.
Long skinny roads, wearing the uneasiness of worries
Have grabbed me once to try them
With a daring heart risking my life,
And I, coating the valour in my skin,
Tried all of them all one by one.
Some taught me to stumble and fall,
Some taught me to rise and stand tall,
Some taught me to cry and stop
And some taught me to laugh and fight.
Lost in the thoughts of these trying times,
I sharpen my pen to write a new history
Keeping faith the new day is no longer a mystery.
I patronize my soul that weaves power
When I gasp and think to rest.
Bewitched by mighty words and verses,
I pray for a new world colouring the love
And bestow my reverence to the almighty God.
'Live, laugh and love', these three mantras of life
Will take us to the eternal positive vibes.
Of Water And Rejuvenation
Water drops cascading from my eyes,
Holding the values of an unfixed past,
Curving the world in a dismal room,
And painting the scenario with the abrupt
Shades of maddening emotions.
I look through the pavement of my heart,
Evasive with the taunting thoughts,
And I glide past the haunting pool
Of untouchable feelings and expressions.
Stooping low before a defeated phase,
My tear drops turn dews and then evaporate
As the mind holds the bulky unholiness
And burdened with the fear of tantrums.
Horrifies me the glistening idol of glamour;
Full of vague spuriousness and fraudulence,
I strongly boycott all the blatant pangs
As I have encompassed my feelings
In the beautiful box of gloomy aches.
The vast azureus ocean of agonizing scream
Calls me for an expedition to insipidly own.
Water drops carolling for my triumph story
As I hail from the land of ultimate glory.
Unfold the love
An uncertain & dark life
Spent under the shield of deprived feelings,
A lifestyle broken, starving for a meal
Shrieks aloud for a shiny day to laugh.
There comes some cheerful humanitarians
Who uplift the needies like their babies,
Rescuing from the malice of death.
A hungry gets to eat, a lonely gets a companion,
A homeless traces a home & a diseased finds recovery.
The charming sun hasn't gone to set,
It is yet to cover everyone with the light of compassion,
And then comes the foundations
Turning the dreams into a beautiful reality,
By marinating lives with the syrup of care and love.
The valiant hearts knows nothing if they ever
Get to see the untold screams of a refugee,
Or an infant or a cancer patient or simply a war-torn.
I wish everyone in the world would be bestowed
With such purity and sanctity in their minds
To take brave steps of curing lives & painting smiles.
Let's pray for a tomorrow, less of pain & full of gains,
& people embrace each other with love, forgetting revenge.
The Degrading Lights of Hymn
Flabbergasted to know
That my mother-tongue is being ignored,
Bengali, considered to be
One of the most spoken languages in the world
Whereas UNESCO crowned it as the sweetest
One on the entire planet is reluctantly
Escalating from the list of the recognition.
Where are the glories gone,
The birthplace of Tagore is lost somewhere,
No knowledge where they stand in the current scenario!
It's surprising how we, the young generations, Are allocating ourselves in the enriched house of English
As we slowly progress in the derogatory prison
Of over-jewelled arrogance.
The greatest storytellers, literarians, poets and wordsmiths
Who contributed their keen eye and heart into
The world class kingdom of literature, arts and culture,
Now mourning from the maliciously infectious cancer of delinquency.
Alas! We Bengalis have forgotten the roots,
And now the pride is drowned in the endless crowd of mediocrity.
The golden land of elegance and eminence
Should regain its lost aura,
Whereas the glittery pride of Bengali shouldn't Be lost in The incandescent light of English.
*Suchismita Ghoshal is a poet from West Bengal, India. At the very early age of 23, she has shaped her life in a way where she cuddles with literature and devotes herself into finding peace through love, compassion, learning & community service. With an academic career in science till graduation, she is currently pursuing her masters in business administration (MBA) from the renowned GD Goenka University in Gurgaon, Haryana. Besides that, she is a professional writer, published author, internationally acclaimed poet, literary critic, literary influencer, content writing member for WEST BENGAL UNITED NATIONS YOUTH ASSOCIATION, INTERNATIONAL ORGANISATION OF UNITED NATIONS VOLUNTEERS & HELPING HAND INTERNATIONAL ORGANISATION, change-activist & a nature lover. With more than 520 coveted co-authorship in various renowned national & international anthologies, prestigious literary magazines, websites, webzines and eminent literary journals, she fosters to carry forward her literary career in a more prominent way. She has also authored 3 poetry books by the name of "Fields of Sonnet", " Poetries in Quarantine" & "Emotions & Tantrums". Her poems have been translated into Arabic, Italian & Spanish till now. She has an enormous number of accolades and highly elegant achievements entangled with her name for her indomitable willpower and excellence in hardworking.
WordPress: https://creativesuchi.wordpress.com
Website: www.suchismitaghoshal.com
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