Poetry | thebengali

The Lines Have Blurred

March 4, 2017 by thebengali

The Lines have Blurred The Blurs have Lines And somewhere therein Lies Life. Boundaries, Rules, Grays, Rights. It’s all a bit Black but White Hell yeah, that’s Heaven I see In every single moral victory But then I see, And I see again The Moral seems a-moral from Here But Here is Here And When I am There I am Me and I am Me Again The Lines have Blurred The Blurs have Lines And somewhere therein Lies Life. The […]

Categories: Learning, Mountain Walking, Poetry, Self, Society, The Arts • Tags: Black, Boundaries, India, Leaders, Life, Lines, Moral, Rules, Social, thebengali, White

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I Will Take Affection

February 20, 2017 by thebengali

I will take affection where I get it. I will take love from whomever gives it. I will eat food at whichever hearth offers it to me. I will accept respect, advice, wisdom, quality, support Any Time, Anywhere from Any Source – And be grateful for it all. A life time is all I have to live What a loss it would be To waste a single moment questioning The motives behind any good that comes my way. For isn’t […]

Categories: Learning, Poetry, Self • Tags: Eyes, Learning, Self, thebengali

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Across The Sea, Water

February 17, 2017 by thebengali

You cross the Sea And need a drop of Water to Live If You are Child of God And I am Child of God Can a Religion Separate Us? If You are Child of God And I am Child of God But I am Black or Brown Am I less of a Child of God? If You are Child of God And I am Child of God But I am Woman Will God judge me differently? If You are Child […]

Categories: Learning, Nature, People, Poetry, Self, Society • Tags: God, Humanity, Self, Society

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The Anatomy of Sadness

December 21, 2016 by thebengali

It is a debilitating feeling that is clinging to me Making me inert, rendering me unstrong. I find myself in a languid state of unravelling The pace of unravelling so slow That I am not falling apart nor alarmed But am suspended in between action and inaction Between melancholy and dispair Between life and the living of it. My heart is beating slowly Ever so slowly: it is almost still. It is a peaceful almost-stillness Except that the gentle rising […]

Categories: Learning, Nature, Poetry, Self • Tags: India, Poetry, Sadness, Sanjay Mukherjee, thebengali

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When My Eyes Can’t See

December 21, 2016 by thebengali

When my eyes can’t see I’ll still be able to smell and hear and feel And my eyes will see without seeing When my ears can’t hear I’ll still be able to smell and feel And my eyes will be seeing without seeing And so my ears will hear through them When my sense of smell goes I’ll still be able to feel And my eyes will see without seeing My ears will hear anyway And so I’ll be able […]

Categories: Nature, Poetry, Self • Tags: existentialism, Poetry, Sanjay Mukherjee, thebengali, Verse

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Nobody is Listening

December 21, 2016 by thebengali

Silence. Cacophony. Silence. Chaos, din, noise. Clutter, clatter, incessant chatter. No respect, no structure, no coherence. Just noise. Defeaning noise. The silence is because I go deaf in between. Deaf when I am not speaking, that is. And it is at such an impasse that the world stands today. The day when everyone would be connected is here. So has the day when all deem themselves to be equal. When all are deemed equal, every thought is primary. When every […]

Categories: Learning, Poetry, Self, Society

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Loose End

December 10, 2016 by thebengali

One day, walking down this road You’ll see all the roads you’ve ever traveled All the crossroads, all the turns And you’ll meet all the different you’s you’d left behind There’ll be mirrors at every corner Who will you see then? All the little ghosts will walk with you Hold your hand and remind you Of the you’s that you used to be And you’ll see all that you could have been At every turn at every place Who […]

Categories: Poetry, Self, Society, The Arts • Tags: I Used To Be A River, India, Loose End, Sanjay Mukherjee, Self, Society, thebengali

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A Verse on Time

December 9, 2016 by thebengali

What’s an hour more or less In an endless stream of hours? As day gives way to night And night blossoms into day, There is only a mist of conscious thought Hiding the reality of sub-conscious awareness. I see visions, people, objects. I hear sounds, words, voices. I wake and sleep not knowing one from the other. Pray tell, what’s an Hour more or less In such an endless stream of hours?

Categories: Poetry • Tags: India, Sanjay Mukherjee, Self, Society, thebengali, Time

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thebengali

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Category Archives: Poetry

I Will Take Affection

Across The Sea, Water

The Anatomy of Sadness

When My Eyes Can’t See

Nobody is Listening

Loose End

A Verse on Time