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 Jul 2018 Srijani Sarkar
Rumi
The beauty of the heart

is the lasting beauty:

its lips give to drink

of the water of life.

Truly it is the water,

that which pours,

and the one who drinks.

All three become one when

your talisman is shattered.

That oneness you can't know

by reasoning.
 Jun 2018 Srijani Sarkar
helia
clouds darken the sky
with their endless rain
foreboding silence
settles and blankets

yet through the despair
of those who cry woe
a brightness pours through
unabashedly

a ray of sunshine
does your dear heart hold
thank you for shining
your light down on me

your endearing warmth
melts away my doubts
like so much piled snow
making way for spring

i've known the summer
and its blazing heat
its fun adventures
for all of my life

yet your cool nature
and slow gentle winds
it incites in me
a new sense of peace
for my beloved sun.
may 30, 2018.
 Jun 2018 Srijani Sarkar
Taija
Not a day goes by that I don’t think
about the way your hands felt
intertwined with mine, or the way
your hair gently danced on your
shoulders, or how your dimples
would form into canyons when I
made you laugh, or how your
freckles were their own tiny
constellations in the night sky,
or how the sound of your voice
could calm the harshest storms,
or when I kissed you it felt like I was
myself and I was comfortable
with you, with us... and I can’t
shake the feeling that maybe
somewhere I went wrong... I was
silly to hide you from the world
when you deserved to be every
billboard in the world. I was young,
and you were the first girl I ever
kissed, and that scared me.

t.h.
In honour of pride month I wanted to share a personal poem I wrote
moon
waste no seconds with my heart

above my head invitations open

moonlight's no solstice sun reflection,
but solstice moon rather
mooning moon

what gifts you bring for me
to make me stop!

simplicity in the message

solstice moon
you my heart

and my heart
love
She is lost to her shopping
Rooms of shoes to be worn once or twice
Instantly bored of her sunglasses
She needs new bathrobes today.

The masses bleed for compassion,
Babies torn from a mother’s breast
Screaming in foreigners’ arms
O soft spoken beauty
This was your Evita moment
To spread your magic fashion smile.

If you could shed a tear
On your high Slavic cheeks
And wave your wand! All,
All will adore you!

She chooses a curious graffiti
To wear on her coat
To meet the children
Freed from their cages.
Her stance is quite clear;
But the last angel who said
“Well, let them eat cake!”
Lost her head...

Her 15 minutes are up-
The Third Estate brands her the *****!  
Just like all the arrogant queens  
She now hides from the world  
And surrounds herself with
The carnival filth
Who merry make
In the hunger games.
How utterly contemptuous can one person be? Welcome Melania to the hall of fame of the world's ugliest souls.
The vulture is a peaceful bird
She watches, circles patiently
Waiting for life to become death
So she can gather what she needs

The vulture does not maim or slay
And causes neither harm nor strife
She walks in the shadow of death
And so turns death back into life
Procrastination


A bird chirps to get me out of bed,
But I am still resting my head and I don’t want to get up yet.
It’s nice and cozy under these blankets
And I haven’t got to go to work today,
So I am deciding what to do next.


I will get up, but I don’t want to.
I will make myself a nice breakfast
And for lunch I will have soup;
But I will not be cooking tonight because I have a date.
I must not be late.  I think she said to meet at eight…


Or was it seven?  Or half past?  Oh well.
I will figure it out;
I have no doubt,
Things they will all be just swell.


I am sure she will text me before then,
So I can pretend that I knew all along…
Maybe I will finish writing that song,
That I have been working on.


It’s so nice and warm beneath my quilt,
So why move at all when I can be happy being still?
But still I am hungry, so up I will get
And make myself some toast,
But I am so bored of bread!
My body needs sustenance and I think I need porridge;
My stomach will just have to be patient for a while
And somehow I will manage.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
 Jun 2018 Srijani Sarkar
Molly
Home
 Jun 2018 Srijani Sarkar
Molly
Empty and grey
A waiting room
Haven for those
Too tired to rise
And blind to what
Would make them
Glow
From inside out
My dear old Home

Stars concealed
By jealous clouds
I heard
Their call
You pulled
Me down
To my hands
Warmed
By a tiny flame
Disguised
As an excuse
To stay

Time to time
You let me see
Light
Fugitive
From the cracks
Of what was
What would be
If
I didn’t go
But that’s in the past
My dear old Home
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