Vessel By Sayani Mukherjee Kites of uneventful evenings In the middle ground Of a sun soaked deadline Loopholes and pigeonholed Bricks, cements, chimney sweep brush Petit heads that surface Moon phased inner city lights Log brimmed night towered watch brim Dainty arrows that come down Boils into a fightful secrecy What appears is a vessel Underneath a giant submarine Depths deaths numerous tunnels A cool icy maiden voyage Angelic frequencies of musing tickets Law business of stockings and paperwork Her world, a wimming puddles Cabins are smudges smitten by a car crash ride Twin towers bin bucket Of lake house high Mornings are chimney sweep Parrots stricken blue tapestry Leftist rights and insights Just a vessel of an innocence personified.
Category Archives: MUKHERJEE
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Green By Sayani Mukherjee Awake to the surrounding- The lime that freshly given, A sumptuous gift. Divine feminine and Universal harmony Grazing luscious green tumbling Forever anew. Fresh drops and confined circles Turning grief rivers in white aromas Of Smell sniffing Nature's basic instincts Coupling harmony meadows deep inside The Earth river flows through Tiny bushes like thoughts sip of Rejuvenation Soaking in the green wilderness The link for unison. Understanding comes at the heart Awakening swollen mid October The lily mossed burnt cross Melts The river soakes it all Salem haunts and fiery furnace It smooths the rocks Universal harmony The pasture the innocent invitation Lamb grazed Christ consciousness Of all embracing synchronized green The feminine vastness Bountiful art like Meadows deep down inside It rains.
Poem from Sayani Mukherjee
Dream By Sayani Mukherjee Fallen leaves ashen branches Candy cream by nightswim high Pinky promises candyfloss gardens My beautiful headlines floor Penguins swarm around A lethe ward booking river My mushroom floor Icy clouds roadside shadows Horses catching for the cherry blossoms swim Newly renovated daydreaming gardens Nothing to do with reality bites For smacking paperflowers high From the ceiling top Little bunnies and Alice dream Down the rabbit hole dream For moonstone and ruins of paper work My eyes fleck Raining hard over the open skies Purple hibiscus disc and tulle flowers The nightstand of fallen leaves Potential for the first time Trying my Cinderella shoe.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Tattooed By Sayani Mukherjee Uniquely designed for mainstream A six figured tattooed butterfly On my back A pat at my shoulder A beam at my poem Tree house and childplay things My proof of itsy bitsy rock scissors stone A friendship bracelets with red ribbon White washed marooned island Over my chest It stays when I form a circle of mates- Three Pentagons diaphragmatic Radio shows on for Friday nights Modernist nonsense and my Zabberwocky tricks I form my bracelets with my Tattooed fingertips. My jinx my pixie dust my childlike wonder A little sparkle did no wonder Red bracelets white washed marooned island I hum at my lost poem A sudden Omition at the back A little pinch of dusty drives Underneath a new edge control Completing of a poem for the Medal gold I hope my pixie dust will do Good for nothing For this electric haze on my tattooed butterfly soul.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Dark Alley By Sayani Mukherjee The higher power is a dark realm A pregnant egg of alluring fantasies Laced with savages Of nobility of muzzled openings. I wish upon the cave Abandoned ruggedly inspired Diabolically and Divinely Closed off stream of a simple stare A sudden maneuver Peeping slowly, hooking within The black cuckoo is always nasty Her songs, mythically beautiful Tap dance within her bosom fare Rides my homebody fevers. An abandoned alley smudged between Practicalities mundane My paper knife to hold my worth Sweepingly not to prove anything Just a sullen sweet song To lie beside me the lake house ground To build nests Green reds blacks ribboned whites Ego death of survival guide My womanly virtue vices Boldness coyness All dived down- Under the cave the siren song The dark alley Allowing the evenings to drop down Hushly steadily making no noise The evening prayers Higher powers Dark coins The woman, a dark alley.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Room By Sayani Mukherjee One room talks for long- A single vase, a simple waiting Roses by the window For my two's A quite roseblush shop. A single season A solemn warfare. My solitude A Overpriced vain necessary stability. Four pentacles A grilled stamp card Necessary for the sign. Two weeks, three days, diaried days Critiqued, laid, flat, opened, cocooned By the single vase For the roses blushes, sheets, pinks By the gates By the curtains Strange air, levitating, crunchy- Air born nymphs Ricochets, second chances Without cracks, we are not humans Thorns, thrones, through Days diaried, dialogues dialed Filling out on vagaries, postcards Flights, spinoff , stamped , parceled, motored Mobility, mechanical, stability. Against, The rose gold blushes inwards pouring rain A tinkling seed A single room for two's.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Simple Ruins among saplings A crescent washed glow Global apothecary, time's healer Crashed out in Woolen sweaters. Disasters gravity's rainbow A Forlorn runaway train A crumpled cup of waiting Soon muzzles out. A thin beat of a shy evening They all called her. Now the words are naked Unzipped motion Cinema like it moves away Ties the gift in a parcel A matchbox to keep the little roses safe Laced pearled of few words A minimalist safebox Frees the burden In little simple emotions. Solace By Sayani Mukherjee Nascent images booned My brewed morning With words as if fragmented clothes I thought, They will play with me- A criss cross algorithm Between simplicity and public vain And then will appear A blessed halo And silver whispers that will somehow ring by my side With nightshades and soft clouds- A brimful of common poetry. Because, only I know the voice Natural, unscarred within And the serene utterance As it colours the morning prayer. Then, a cradled shadow A wet dripped morning, Raindrops two or three, And a cottage of green simplicity. The rugged path will be my destiny It is not just worldly wisdom for my wishy washy tale But my whimsy haze And my romantic spree An eternal wish for an April spring With my brewed morning And my winged pen Leading my green path Towards my bundled sky And a grim, earthy solace.