Let me
Sleep on petals
Flown at papers
When my nights are autumn
And my mind
sheds all
That it grew
Through the day - my springs
I bloom
with feelings
And afternoons
have rained
Rainbows into me and
hues cascading out of me
Now I know what poetry is.

My roots forget
The taste of soil
they keep on digging,
No, love seeped too deep this time.
And my words dew too much
Emotions that
My leaves
now loathe sunlight.
And the birds have left
A home in me,
all empty
I am all alone,
Save me.

And you, like a wind
I feared all these years
Only to lift me up,my wilted verses
Are half dead,muses still breathing
Craving a death so bad
You blow , you blow
Against all my skin and swishing my hopes up
Making me see
The sky again and again.
Let these desires rest
Enough of throwing them at the clouds.
You go, another desert thirsts for life.
My poetry always foliages from memories anyway.

- Srijani Sarkar

The first time I made love to my mind

When love escaped from the gaps
Between our silences and overthinkings
I saw the naked mind.
We sailed from thousand cuddles of imprudence
To a long warm kiss of sanity.
While I dwindled in her arms of fool's paradise
No sleep just one long weary night,
Her ****** reeked of loneliness
I licked it. Hoping to taste ingenuity,
it was the aftertaste of forsaken feelings
that made me ***** her
till she stopped moaning neon dreams.

Somewhere in my walkabouts in her
I created deep craters of memories
Which she took for love bites
were, in fact, scars for life.
We were virgins on our quests
Thirsting our way through wanting and longing......
She made me swallow lust
Slowly. Heavily downtown.
And fingered it, the ***** of thoughts
Ruptured.
And she bled musings.
And Phantasmagoria exuding from her holes
And Spurting into mine like a cascade of brooding melancholy.....
And.... And....

The night my mind lost its virginity,
I sat down to write.

I want to wake up to a world
where "what do you do for a living?"
comes with "I just live" reply.

I am thinking
right now how
wrecked I'll feel
if my friend
dies but she
hasn't died yet.

My love
is lonely
my loneliness
is breathing
my breath
is free
my freedom
is sleeping
my sleep
is Me
finding myself
amidst a
bunch of
leaves or
souls that
fell in
love once
and never
recovered from
the fall
or falling.

These red rashes on my skin
flowers blooming
one by one
of different colours
on the same tree
several now
all over me
the rashes
almost hide the tree
when spring is an epidemic.