Beam By Sayani Mukherjee Pyre of hollow embers Burns purged insecurities; Ravishing coiling serpant machinery Jokes and trickstars of naysayers, Of caging the free spirited Moksha Dreams of mana, Himalayan bluebirds The flappy wings of fancy somantic fury Only tune of one song. Loud enough to burst forth Material orders hierarchies Ashes of power game Caged and bonded Flattering cynismcism a cyclical tornado Only the blue bird sings It knows the one tune I'm an om An autumnal seasonal flashback. Draping warm leaves around my sweet neck Honeybees and nectar of sooth Sayers fuzz My veins a musing, jumping, free spirited laboratory- Made of Streaming stars and faith and woolen love I, a Bluebird sing of mana Airy floaty elfish vain Titular rambunctious whole of a new realm I am a power of my life force Watery windy fiery fiesty road Akashic magic burning sages Rosemary incensed fume I swallow pyres Burning up eights lusts heads I twinkle and beam.
Category Archives: MUKHERJEE
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Violence By Sayani Mukherjee Wanderings amidst snow cradled stairs Lily footed innocence A lighthearted Soaking A Feather-like elusive disarray. Then a leopard at night Humanoid force The violence is foggy My tainted mirror sees it The masks of forked paths A string, a right left child's play. After a nanosecond speed The bullet proof vest Marching through For virtue Death and dreaming Glassinobs scented handkerchief Shorting of breaths Death over death's bosom. The power of a couplet The pinching truth Salty with each throb. The leopard runs deep down Forests and pillars Authority holds the shadow The sceptical insomnia A sharp finish Morphine sleep, time's hole. Hours hold on. The river runs through Shadows and bones Chess game and vigilant mistress A dark hell with my resistance. I can't lie with the River. It sees through A wise grandmother and a woolen muffler. Coils the structure Men with law enforcement Country's growth spurt. The children feed on Winds and brain smoked intelligence. The play is ironic. A blind stare. Aborigines instincts a creepy vestibule The river rings on A music to ears Lily footed innocence It holds the strings alright A juggler. Mass extinction Nature's yearnings A blood dripping amazonian finish. It devours.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Autumn By Sayani Mukherjee Mayhem of Autumn. Soul expanding bliss In evening hours Grey waistcoats, lined seconds. A silent peace Seeing things as should be; Borderlands of tingy maturity The misshapen afterthought Liberty passed a glance As soft hours do, Asking for chance. Velvet purple glow End of dripping down Carrying the waste to the stream Purging a clean slate Coming ocean folded spasms Evening sparrows Grey twilight Twinkling in a brown pot. Unison and festivities Erasing borders Autumn, an old friend Warm hospitality Unzipped Intimate snuggy goodness As a big brother A silent bliss of an evening The purple zone.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Peach By Sayani Mukherjee Peaches for summers Easy going smooth finish. Drilling of my internals I deny in small whispers. Quiver a word a little too bold As the climax turns up- After all those Unspoken unspoiled earthings When the room gets too much exposed I put on Aromatic screens facades Goldfishes a little bit safe To draw up An innocent plaything like a peach. To shut down Testing the waters when the crowd drops on. At the midnight quake A little quibble, a dripping of dew. Inhaling innuendos Amidst a thorny rose The peach does its job.
Poetry by Sayani Mukherjee
August By Sayani Mukherjee There's a craze over August The eighth month To show the face of it a little more bright Wooden floors upon the high end beach Nutty glowed tapered tales Of coming undone a little more The Indian summer has a dark end Murky milky fidgety way The snakes hide that way In a little hole of August A ceremonial end To suck the letters In a peephole Let the month do the reading As I unhinged my gate To look over winter break.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Unison By Sayani Mukherjee Sugar palm hands Of a bohemian soul Need jagged patting To keep a straight face. A mahogany beach and oomph Of nothingness Squabbles hard over Empty nothings. What do i seek now Do i think in music? As happens within An earthen pot The pure sunken smell Jellyfishes, coconuts A slippery witch And two quarters of A ghetto revolution? Fathomless and Disreputable A slow moving sensational pitch As happened in jazz blues The stringing soulful siren A collective unison For peace and justice Human endeavours on earth like tree. Over two three degrees And office clad suits Cats and dogs game A material show buzz Of a pitching ballad.
Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee
Hibiscus By Sayani Mukherjee A yellow blur. The sea swans forth The home saddles with Moon thistle and silver spread gleam. A token of nudge at the door A little grief over lost poems Of losing a decades high A family of past remembrance Locked up in acrylics of Pomegranate smudged souls; A lace curled up Full of feminine rhymes. It's my penmanship to own Loose disjointed freestyles Like a dove, an alcove, a pine tree. The untrodden nudges At the peak end A forest full of mystery A theatrical stance Over the old bright city A fancy out of space and while Casually misfit, a tropical cloud. Too much showers drown the island in me Then suck with Pansies and whims Two poles of wide apart In the middle, a threadbare silence A red string of millions Footsteps, raspy echoes, an old lane Illicit with bright red longing. I clasp a hibiscus In the middle a bright ruby red The house clasps knot A light within A full moon fall A yellowed red dance.