Poetry – Megha Mazumdar

Mixed Doubles

Disease

Scurried through my taxation of ridicules,

To finally get a hold of all the loose whimpers, till I found a bang.

Weary weird youth, asking for the step next…

And the rest, stoned with shudders-

They haven’t been sleeping, neither is awake.

What is this turn? What is with the burn?

A heavy heart or an empty appetite?

Or the urgency, of a Home.

Now, find your boundaries, plot your terror

To unite the commonest of the souls-

The colours around have a pallet today,

But you’re without a brush!

Lines after lines are falling short,

For a new day is in a hush!

My mind is echoing the starlit absurd

Of a calm cosmos, The Mother laughs.

For how the screams and scatters and blood, all smothered

Lie alone in a corner, behind the masks.

My fellow survivors, Run! Run! Run!

 

Vendetta

They said, love needs a lustre,

A spark, ignited rightfully between the two souls,

Falling from grace, with quite a handsome pace,

Keeping the bodies apart, but their being, the same.

I fell in love, last July

With a man of a thousand sins,

Would see how every hour would fly,

With an unaltered game of pace, clearer were now, my wins!

Our hands would touch, in the dark subway,

A shiver, a clink in my eyes,

My hair would stay open, often these days,

Like a silver cotton spread on the sky.

He made vows, I kept them.

He asked “How”, I heard “When”.

There were no orders, no names,

We only felt, couldn’t hear the mayhems!

Love was all there was,

The lustre, the ignition, the glaze,

The midnight chariot rides to the stars,

We stood there transfixed, there were calm, and screams.

I fell in love, last July

If only he did too-

His soul forgot to reach my high,

He had written some words of woo.

Which pricked my soul, not his

Which dug a deep hole, now a pit,

A carnival of craving and some heat

Like the last burning lamp along the street.

We parted with pain, in angry stares

Stroke a deal with life, wasn’t much of a dare,

Wrote down some last memories of cuddle and care,

That would aid me deal with the following despair.

I murdered the memoirs, I strangled him too,

Believe me, lesser pain than when he used to woo

I dragged him down the empty stairs,

Where love was once made, now a nightmare-

I was kind enough to shed a tear or two,

While I watched him melt in the giant fireplace,

The warmth of which would tantalize us two,

Was now clothed in cries, smelled of his sinner flesh.

I stood and cried but didn’t save him,

Was muffled with joy, satiating my sins

When at last he couldn’t open his eyes after a blink,

I gave him my company, for he had my being.