Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee

 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 
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. 

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