Sukanya Sinha Roy
Sukanya Sinha Roy
15 minutes ago

A hush of hundred wings

Flocks of geese rise in unison to the blue

Onward to faraway lands of their home

Spring beckons, to a world of bloom anew

Sky ward they rise and turn with the bend of the river

Wet reeds nod and whisper a farewell song

The morning breeze sees them off with a passionate shiver

They would perhaps return again in the hue of winter

Or perhaps, never, ever.

Light House
Light House
7 hours ago

Weaver of words: mag-!-cal.

Lives in a lighthouse; &,
on their person is kept a compass,
crisscrossed beyond four quadrants.
Thoughts ...trail about, drift over, around,
the watchperson -- the only human being -- the lighthouse's caretaker,
operator...  the keeper of this torch & beacon.

Protected; &, in many ways blessed,
this keeper stands, zipped in prayers & threads:
inked, by a something, similar to a Valkyrie,
whom laced herself, by sewing parts of her being,
in-color, into his skin.  She covered him in...

X's: perfumed, the keeper stands, keeping
the lighthouse functioning  ...safeguarded, harbored,  ..himself.
Playing his part, & performing to a T -- precisely -- quite efficiently;
however, with her help.

With her lace wrapped 'round
his neck, down to his toes.
He keeps the gears & cogs,
& other parts of this place,
turning, churning...ro-
-wing, bursting forth shine, all-year-round.
Said to be only a man, yet his actions roar,
& his ship-of-a-mind, much like-a-shark ..always
stays oared, keeping watch, always on;
moving up & down, much like
that light-at-the-top, himself.

Built for supernatural-speed, much like her:
she chose him to uphold this house, & see to its upkeep,
because she believes in him, & yet, she also did...

..because within its glass & walls, like paper drawn, all-over-on,
-- sketched upon -- scribbled & scrabbled in her permanent ink
he would watch
over the world & the rest of the sea, safely.  For she branded him, not to burn him,
but to protect him.

She:
an angelic woman who watches over him,
-- overseeing this watcher of the sea --
pecked herself into him,
with her words glowing...  like
fluorescent lighting, veining -- deep, but showing through --underneath his skin.  She: the watcher of this watchman.  Always watching, even
when he rarely dreams.

The Hen... is everywhere, & yet... invisible -- hidden, in a sense --
but ..full-breasted she struts: a paladin,
provid-ing pro-tection...
for ....this fighting monk:
the keeper of this torch & beacon.

Rough, heavily in the works still.
first half asleep copy.

*************

Still night sky , the face of every star so clear


As if someone had  slackened puppet strings to dangle the sequins near


A flutter in the dark hedge, that fallen tear of dew


A dream creeps up on tiptoe, falling asleep between me and you

cajen
3 days ago

I read an article about eating out of cans
causing organs to swell, infectious and bursting
             (this is what I imagine cancer looks like).
I worry about all the metal I have consumed
those nights with only two dollars: one can of corn, one of beans
each $0.89 and I can’t stop
feeling
           (what I’m sure I am imagining)
is pain in the lining of my insides, a swelling, infection, soon bursting.

Even though an article said so,
I still buy myself dinner. encapsulated in tin.
cans roll from other baskets
            (and I imagine)
we are all swelling to get home before bursting with hunger.

I first saw you on the white sands
Nude boy on the beach
Arms wrapped around your legs, helpless elastic bands
Eyes closed, head resting on your knees
Nude boy on the beach
I first saw you on the white sands

I didn’t know what to do
I couldn’t take my eyes off you
To just indifferently walk away
Or to tiptoe into this mystery new
I couldn’t take my eyes off you
I didn’t know what to do.

The day sighed and doused its fire
The moon all dressed-up strolled up the pier
Were you deep in thoughts or were you sad
Were you hiding your face, because it hurt so bad.
The moon all dressed-up strolled up the pier
The day sighed and doused its fire

And then, you picked up your reed flute,
Suddenly, you started to bleed
Red-dark poetry running over the white sands, the waves and the sea weed
That was when you raised your unblemished face to the moon
I remember seeing your broken spirit mend on a dark lagoon
This memory of you remains etched on the palms of my hands
Nude boy on the beach
That was when I last saw you on the white sands

Light House
Light House
6 days ago

The sun was down;
the waves were calm.
The boards of the boat creaked;
the ship, itself, buoyed & swayed.
&, her love echoed.  She haunted him:
his thoughts & dreams by night,
& his heart by day.

Random sketches.

Gently, his fingers unbuttoned her inhibitions,


one by one , till her shirt lay puddled at her feet,


And she stood, helplessly happy,


drenched in his ardent cloudburst.

 
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