Tag Archives: darkness

Ghouls of Nights

All are afraid of ghouls
Of dark nights
For they grow piercing claws
That scratches their peace.
Sweats keep bleeding
Down through their temple areas
Breath almost stops
Supplying sufficient oxygen
To their thoughts.

Heart shirks, shrieks,
And sucks them
Of flowing, growing life
Mouth opens
But to drink only the tears.

Yet hands desperately try
To open the windows
Of gagged senses
To let the air fresh come in
When grief engulfs them
In blinding darkness
On the heartless heath of life.

The Dungeon

trees image

A small kid in the dungeon,

Stuck in pitch dark and silence,

She thinks she is blind,

Suddenly after days of darkness,

A ray of light hits her eyes,

A sound of hope, a touch of love.

Makes her happy,

A voice calls her,

She runs towards the door,

And pushes it wide open,

To her surprise it just needed a slight push,

A whole new world of happiness opened.

Behind her a world of darkness, and ahead her a world full of brightness,

At the threshold life looked so beautiful.

© Copyright 2015 Rashmi S. Malapur All rights reserved.

Click by Amit Bose; © Copyright 2015 Amit Bose All rights reserved.

Darkness, the Old Friend

Souvik_pic

Darkness, the old friend, I hear him whispering.
In my hand the torchlight leaps, and shadows
Lap up at the shore. Shadows fade as I thrust the light.
And then, the truant lover, creeps back.

I talk to darkness, the old friend, as mud
And soil cling to my feet. Together we bleed
In buried wounds, scrubbing grudges and anguish.
I talk to darkness, each shade from the lightest gray
To the deepest black, forming a steely loom.

Darkness and I walk together on the earth’s ribs,
Run along its edges, break loose and roll down
To the bottom, posing as dark marbles.
Darkness and I strip off each other’s skin,
Sit down on the nakedness of rocks,
With crumbling faces, like cursed angels.

(Note: An Ekphrastic poem I had written based on a published photograph of my photographer friend Souvik Chakraborty.)

Photo Courtesy: Souvik Chakraborty. This photo of Souvik, titled ‘Dark Horizon’ has been published in the Gallery 36 of Blur Magazine, dated October 2013.

Watching Over, The Night

 

The flesh of the night hangs loose, stale,

Around the cryptic cities where I roam.

My skull, the tautness of my skin,

My bones, joints, the fatty cells

And flesh in between, the conduits of my blood

All dried, nibbled on, burnt away,

The pitch dark sky creeps, moonless,

Laughing with its vicious fangs.

 

Glowing was the night as we had soaked in

The sweetest breaths of her descent.

The night had shone in our bodies.

The two of us, young lovers, brimming with moonlight

In the city bus, gazing from the window

At the luscious asphalt sky.

We were returning home from a feast of a film

The flawless, vital light of the night wrapped us

Wandering, shadow-like.

 

Nearby somewhere, that night, black owls screeched

Serpents crawled over us, coiled around me in

Vehement strokes and shoving. The window

Of our moon-watching banged shut, inside the bolted bus

The smothering, the cussing, the shoving

Bathed me in blood. Far into the night,

The pallid moon crooned feverishly.

They kicked away my body, and

That of my bleeding lover boy.

Together, in the naked city streets

The pestilence of death hovered,

As we moaned—ragged, rickety, forlorn.

 

The nation adorned me with a name, ‘Nirbhaya’,

‘The Fearless’, a martyrdom I never really wanted.

I slowly died, my music died out in the hospital room.

The tongue of the moon licked away

The residues of my rotted flesh.

My blood crystalized. My parents kissed me between

The dead veins of my forehead, and burnt my body,

Or whatever remained in the name of it.

 

Stripped off the flesh, skin and bones,

My arid spirit roams, a nightmare

In the wavy, tangled wind.

Thump, thump, thump—my unseen footsteps

Crush the dark night’s crevices

I am loved much where I belong now,

Sheltered, in the dense canopy of the sky.

Deep inside, I bleed every night,

I wander, in the dark womb of the cities

In the dead of the night, I whisk and burn,

Speed across buses, autos flaring with huge flashlights

I know—somewhere inside every city’s dark trenches,

A woman is breaking into million shards.

My molten essence strolls and stomps,

Whispers my story in wrinkled corners,

Every woman’s living nightmare.

Footnotes:The poem originated from unfathomable pain, remembering the shameful ‘Nirbhaya’ incident of gang rape in New Delhi, India, in December 2012.

 

Let the Night Sing

Shadows creeping,
The fangs of the night unfold,
Faint footsteps resound,
Silvery beams of moonlight.
The dark woods,
Dense canopy of trees,
The pitch black,
Skin slicing through
Silhouetted darkness.
Twinkling stars
Hissing sound,
Let the moon stay,
Let us make love.

Lopa Banerjee. February 9, 2015

Dust to Dust, Ashes to Ashes

They come up to you, clapping, cheering, waltzing their ways
Into room full of bright light, dinner, wine and coquetry.
Life, as you see, it is for the living
Breathing common, humdrum with the cheer
Of a frog leaping, while they see death is for the dead.
The symphony of all their voices, their breath against each other
And lousy fun reverberate in the evening air
Like the music of love, while death
Through the swaying trees, is heard weeping on the breeze.
From a stealthy, safe corner, I open up the door
And pick up its note unsaid.
Death, the identical twin of this roaring, bustling life.

The evening room is squirming with exhaust fumes and laughter
No one knows where this note came from.
My sensation of travel as I sing the note
Is all controlled and guided.
I can see the river blue eyes of your graveyard
Smell the flesh burning
As its embers flash back in time.
I can see the light, bright white and pure
Exit from the total darkness and surrender,
Entering the green pastures of eternity.

I falter in this room full of the living,
My muffled voice resists reaching out,
Tethers and stops amidst the mad cacophony.
Halfway out the door I found this poem
Ignite us as one.

While the bud butterflies melt their wings
Within the light red poppy chain,
The pink-gray clouded, sad sunset rings.
In this lost sky, the sun’s light vein
Is almost thrown in a bloody rain.
The leaving sun abandons the sky
For the moon, and in the cricket crawl
The leaves of the oaks whisper ‘good bye’,
While the coming night has a dark shawl.
She looks at the stars with a black eye.
The sun and the stars find synergy,
In the regolith on the moon,
But with helium fusing energy,
This moon looks like a big balloon,
Or like a fragile, silky cocoon.
And like those thoughts enveloped in words,
Or like angels carrying their pure love,
Are the Feathers of the Holy Birds
In that rain dropping the divine globes
On the strong souls needing love rewards.
Any epistemological sphere
Is pouring up to the Holy Book,
Or is falling down to disappear.
The reverse arch gets a killer look.
Tries to provide fragrance of fear.

The fluid, wicked waves draining in sight
On Earth to meet at infinity
Are like the dark rays in the pure light.
Light rays are arches of Trinity,
While dressed in wind seems to be the night.

Stars are candles and night lights them all,
The colors withdraw in the last light.
In the black darkness, they look so small.
The dream seeds germinate for a fight,
Becoming real while breaking their wall.

© copyright Marieta Maglas

The Sigh

Sweetheart!
The sun has set in my eyes,
And the moon has yet to rise
In yours;

Darkness
Has a reason as it dawns
And my dream-ridden soul moans
For you…

I tried to
Sleep my way into your mind
But that was just a means to find
Us dead!

I sighed
At the way I was doomed to die,
Forgetting that ’twas my
Last breath…

– November 28th, 2008
~ sana rose ~