An anthology of poems

Hints of Despair
By SHAMIT BAGCHI

http://shamitb.blogspot.com

1
 Death Loves Thee

A writhing heart, throbbing head.

A dark, bleak,

Impotent human clump, a clod.

Uninspiring living, ploughing through.

In utter agony of existence.

Pages of this book of life,

Turn about by the force of,

Some unknown, wind of destiny.

Sail unset, directionless motion,

For the sake of social continuity.

Goalless, aimless, hapless,

Brutal monotony;

Is this on Earth or on any planet?

Blood and gore, deviant mind.

A pathetic path of

Lust and seeking an erotic thrill,

Reeking of decay

Resonant with the music of the

Nearing endgame.

Such soothing music,

2
 And visions of joy;

Have transformed themselves,

Into gloomy grottos of pain.

Dying motives, and immense

Repeated personal failures,

Or a grand conspiracy of deprivation,

Solitary confinement, avoiding the,

Satin touch, the plate of luxury,

Drawn to them nevertheless.

Not to blame as unjust.

Hapless path of existence

To go on treading.

Opportunistic hence unworthy?

The definition is,

An ambiguous life,

Or a life sentence issued;

By some divine or devilish hands?

What lay ahead, the epilogue reached?

The book and hence its story,

Must rest in peace.

The coda comes and so

The Song ends.

3
We embrace, embrace, embrace.

O, If not anyone, at least,

Death loves thee.

4
 See? I hear you.

Blazing, fiendish, tortuous

Nights, you seem to be too

far and yet near as also higher

and higher to reach. I smile

for a while, I station my

mind in a recess of silence;

cling on, undying hope,

metronome, alarm clock,

gibberish, music to my ears

To hear the timbre of the melodious

notes of your voice, sonorous.

Only the silence stabs at my tympanum,

Hollow seems the wait , silence

reverberates like drumbeats.

Sometime later, smarting still,

Sparring demons, my credo high,

Playing games, believing its all not a lie;

As you pass by, your tunic

caresses my arm, the fragrance,

5
 nausea, alarming desire;

rises high, as I sigh, and

leaps over the horizon only to die.

Have I not caught your eye?

6
 Life, Lush then now bald

My heart would jump in fear or pleasure, as she untied

Her dark tresses; running fingers through the strands.

How nonchalant, seductive even, a simple charm

To keep my whole day bright and warm!

Invisible sticky, honey-like the long, open strands of hair,

Like intertwined memories not ready to come apart.

Arousing the thoughts of the forbidden,

The lush bunch both exotic and giving off a primal fragrance!

Staring at those, thoughts would get all mixed up

That woman is now like the fading mist.

Gone from the reality of everyday; erased by will,

In tune with her words – reality, against a pleading mind!

No more words come to me,

Squashed fantasies, flowery joy and desires - all shaved

As if at the hands of some unseen barber.

A bald patch, a lonely stretch far and wide – life now.

7
Perhaps Not a Poet's Muse.

That maiden's presence was a lair,

With a capacity to ensnare.

Her every whiff in the air;

Caused a mild, (imaginative?) despair!

Again in that dark ocher robe,

She'd be a splendid thing,

Ah! Greater joy 'twas,

When I'd heard her sing.

That hidden smile,

Had made me forget for a while;

All rhythm and rhyme,

All future count of time.

Now, I look up at the sky,

Close my eyes to release a sigh.

To leave it alone would be nigh,

As days will eventually go by ...

8
 I open my eyes,

Those dreams lie shaken;

Too late did I realize,

That the maiden's taken.

Lingering anxiety and pain,

Thoughts, often come as an excuse.

However, close and dear, she'll remain,

As the poet's eternal muse.

9
 Life Goes on, as if nothing happened.

When the last straw broke, I stood there,

It made a real loud sound, like the ripping of the heart,

Muscle and sinew - veins popping, arteries stopping;

Midway it was choked, the painful and silent scream.

Dreams, bloody dreams, dreamt in solitary company,

Like an edifice built on weak bricks, from a cold, coughing kiln.

Too far ahead in my dreams, unrestricted I had gone,

Alas! Only to realize how far, how very far - now very far!

In the chill of the seeming wintery night,

The overt smugness had the power to ignite all in flames.

All that was human at stake, benign or malignant,

The mental sore was now drawing blood, draining the spirit.

Bizarre shadows of bizarre moments in life,

Fallen, deeply wounded I lie, the duel over.

Now I know what being human is;

As life always knows better, it restores parity.

10
 Dreams get killed when you wake up – blow by blow.

That is a given, I did my best to refuse to wake,

As the pleasant dream lived on, an ode to life’s continuity;

Then life happened; my dream lay battered, mutilated beyond repair.

Now at the very limit of my thoughts’ reach,

As if something dear and distant had pillaged my everything.

I sit dazed, confused and motionless, unable to move an inch.

There…Life goes on, as if nothing happened.

11