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  Aug 2020 Shrika
Carlo C Gomez
To thine own naked lunch be true.

Nonetheless,
she knows where from the prolonged gaze
resides.

She knows it's as central to life
as a breath of newborn air.

Yet, she confronts it,
she queries it.

Why must love
Be thunder and hunt?

Why can't it stretch it's limbs out,
languid in the diffused light?

Like morning awakening
to bluebell carpets in soft spring,

Where the revealed flesh can
unfadingly upon float.

When will it learn to sit with her,
quietly, and partake
of such nakedness together...?
Inspired by the renowned painting by Édouard Manet (c. 1862-1863)
Shrika Aug 2020
I watch her.

I watch her,
as the night drapes over her window,
as the stars tangle in her hair,

I watch her,
as the chiseled imperfection
of the moon stirs her inky musings,

I watch her ,
in the uncertain glow of the dying candle,
in the torrent of tattered thoughts,

I watch her,
watching me through the silver-smeared glass,
through the pits of colourless brown,


                                      I watch her as                           
                                   ­            she slowly traces the silence,
                                                        ­           silencing the traces of him.

  Jul 2020 Shrika
Nat Lipstadt
भारत के युवा कवियों के लिए (For the Young Poets of India)

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क्या कोई ऐसा प्रांत है जहाँ कविता पहली भाषा सिखाई जाती है?

शायद, सभी में कविता जीन का जन्म हुआ है?

मेरा इनबॉक्स बैंकों के प्रेम और आत्मनिरीक्षण की कविताओं को पछाड़ देता है!

तो यह है, इसलिए इसे जारी रखने के लिए, कि एक समय और जगह में एकीकृत,

हम पहले से ही एक ही भाषा बोलते हैं, जो वर्णमाला के लिए मायने रखती है,

वह भाषा प्रेम है, कविता सिर्फ वाहन, एक जीभ सभी धाराप्रवाह हैं!
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