Untitled
So many times, my brittle heart is ripped
By matchless agony of failed desire.
That chronic torpor firmly keeps it gripped
Beneath its heavy metaphoric mire.
A well-poised neuron sanely won't behave,
When, in such bizarre fashion, days are passed,
Of sweet temptation fraught that I would crave,
A false delight that disappears to dust.
The self-same sorry tales our fate repeats,
Or I might have been singled out again
To exercise its painful dark deceits,
So that elusive love can wrench my vein.
You made no mistakes; it's me who's at fault,
Trapped in the amorous maze, I freeze and halt.
Noise and Silence
Beneath my mind the demon dances,
He rips away my brain
With awkward sounds and sights untrue
Not of the homely grain.
It's partly dim tonight, I think,
But things are moving all,
I clearly see his evil spree,
While from the cliff I fall.
For long I fall, yet I reached not,
The lowly plain recedes,
Headlong I veer, it makes me steer
Down to a small crevice.
What will retrieve my dislodged frame?
Those whom I knew have left,
From somewhere sprang a sudden bang
Reminds me I'm bereft.
The clamour of a tavern reached
My ears, I stand upright,
What thing just screeched? I was bewitched
By that carousing sight.
I cannot hear the people speak,
The gestures block my eyes,
A humming sound does well to redound
To tell the same, same lies.
I move my limbs, yet they refuse,
Who stole the old, old bliss?
Fixed and numb, I stayed alone,
The voices went amiss.
Sarban Bhattacharya
Sarban Bhattacharya is a poet and academician based in Kolkata. He received his Master’s degree from the University of Calcutta. Several of his previous works have appeared at SCP, an American journal, and in the anthologies edited by the Poetrysoup community. Besides writing poetry, he loves listening to European classical music, reading gothic novels, and engaging in psychoanalytical studies.