Freefall

falling-leaf

dawn trembles

night passes

 

like feather

soft & alight

 

sinking & falling

this fragile life

 

pitches below

into the depths

 

of curdling

dank darkness.

 

a trespasser

unknowingly now

 

treads upon

the fallen, forgotten

 

banyan leaf.

 

Twitter @bibek_writes

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Standing at the Crossroads

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you and I
standing at the crossroads
looking beyond.

walking beneath the azure sky
lost in submission
out in the woods.

deep in the vagrant waters
where we gaze upon
we find each other
like shimmering little stars

constantly changing our
reflections and emotions
like ripples themselves.

we live in each other’s
company
unabashedly alone
in this unaltered
& unalterable world,

strolling haggard on the roads
carefree us two vagabonds
drifting, floating, unsettling
but —

like an eyelid’s
soundless blink
some nocturnal blackness
moth-eaten and warm
from the starless heavens above
befalls

like a quiet throng of vulture voyeurs
the woods watch us
& a crossing breeze cuts a pause
all we hear is —
the bell of silence
upon the air of gloom
ding dong! 

Twitter @bibek_writes

I might be the last one

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I might be the last one
to write such a sad poem

of the coming night
like slow sonorous river.

The dogs break the silence
with their raucous barking;

The wind picks up its chorus,
scampering through these darkening alleys;

Shrill hoot . . . hoot . . .
of the lonely owls

is a sad reminder
of the lives we’ve lost.

I might be the last one to walk
through these darkening streets.

In the day — it was such a busy city!
No one knows — at night how alone it is!

How hurriedly everyone left
these alleys of despair.

These streets at night are homeless,
lying down in its thick emptiness;

in its claw-toothed solitude . . . I shall walk
devouring bits and pieces of raw time.

Walk in this valley of death
singing Moonlight Sonata (if you can).

Walk through this wilderness
with pungent smell of fumes,

losing yourself into this leach-greasy concrete forest.
With drooling flesh of your cheekbones,

walk as fast as you can,
skirting the utter horrors of stepped ghats.

We will be faultless partners
in perfect dreams (if you wish).

But, alas, if you do not walk with me
along with my troubled heart,

I might be the last one to walk
with such a sad poem engraved in my heart.

Twitter: @bibek_writes