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No, she isn't a poet
has never inked one
she takes off my weight
gets my things done

so I have enough time
to afford in a way
the luxury of rhyme
clever wordplay!

No, she isn't a poet
not written one line
clean is her slate
sees I'm fine

so I have enough space
and hour of my own
to indulge the grace
of thoughts mind grown!

No, she isn't a poet
no way she would be
she does her best
to see I'm happy

so my words run smooth
poems are easy born
truth and half truth
are spun night and morn!

No, she isn't a poet
cares not a bit
from her toil's sweat
my poems birth sweet

poems aren't her art
in the sun and showers
she grows from her heart
our garden's best flowers!
A tribute to the great gardener she is.
(5 years on hp this day, thanks to all my poet friends, you gifted me a rewarding journey)
 Mar 2018 Debanjana Saha
Eric W
You are present as a passing breeze,
carrying the scent of lavender,
caressing my waiting hands
with a gentle brush.
But like the wind,
you are felt by
all
you surround,
and you wistfully drift away
before I can breathe you in.
आप एक पुरानी हवा के रूप में उपस्थित हैं,
लैवेंडर की खुशबू ले जाने,
मेरे इंतजार के हाथों को छूने
कोमल ब्रश के साथ
लेकिन हवा की तरह,
आप द्वारा महसूस कर रहे हैं
सब
आप चारों ओर,
और आप जानबूझकर दूर बहाव करते हैं
इससे पहले कि मैं आपको सांस ले सकता हूं
sitting by a window
staring out the smudged pane
past the polychromatic crowds
bent, huddled, faceless in the rain

a smeared image swirling by
modern art painting not yet dry

wishing to nod off
tired to the bone
the rattle and rumble beneath
the stop and the start
keep my weary eyelids apart

the odors of crowded humanity
fill my nostrils,
make them burn
alcohol, sweat, stale cigarette smoke
on clothes that are old and worn

garlic, deep fryer grease
pastrami and cheese in a sack
blood dried on the apron
slung over a butcher's back

a cacophony of noises
surge inside the car
papers rattle, fingers tap
on electronics or on steel bar

~~~

nobody's talking
eyes are downcast
to newspaper, cell phone
or hangnail
fear and distrust
thick in the air
scattered about like
yesterday's mail

on this common commuter carrier
they're traveling the same route

home

just working folks
trying to make it all work out

they have much in common
in a way, aren't they all kin?
worn and weary at end of day,
fellows in the midst of this din?

14th Street station ahead
warns of various dangers
posted there on a column decreed

Please do not smile at strangers
I believe this is a real sign. It looks to be in the picture online.

O my healer!
Soothe me in my dark,
with smooth movement of your energy
slowly on my soul,

And
you will come across few cracks,
dig there a little,
not to hurt or to revive the wounds.

But
to prepare 'em to be filled
with your unconditional love
till they smoothen.

Let it
overflow gradually,
till it fills all
what is empty,

And
the light surrounds us...


Soul healing through unconditional love
 Mar 2018 Debanjana Saha
Cné
Nights
 Mar 2018 Debanjana Saha
Cné
I treasure those nights of unexpected surrender
when hands molded
caressed
and made me tremble
waking from slumber with body afire
as he inched gradually into me
bathed in my welcoming heat
one palm curled protectively
'round the weight of my breast
as finger and thumb drew on beaded peak
and breath caught in my throat
as his full depth was reached
unable to remain still
rocking back to achieve a deeper sink
his sudden hiss scalding my neck
teeth worrying my bottom lip
neither willing to move
afraid it would all end too soon
and as the flames continued to rise
groans replaced whispered sighs
no hurried pace or rapid ******
slow and sensual movements
dragging us ever nearer the edge
denying that final release
drawing closer but holding it back
sensation heightened beyond bearing
until that fraying tether breaks
causing walls to tighten and quake
drinking every last drop of his lust
clutching inside and out
desperately seeking his mouth
sealing the cataclysmic moment
heart pressed to heart
breath to breath
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