These poems were first published in The Thumb Print – A Magazine From The East
Acrostic is a composition in which the initial or final letter of each line taken in order form the title of the verse or tells about the subject.
This is my first attempt in writing Acrostics. Enjoy! and please leave your views.
This what the poetry editor Ananya Guha had to say about these poems, “Tikuli Dogra’s poems are etched with line, colour and music. Somewhere they are nostalgic, and small memories are lit up in a quiet but clear voice. Not overtly emotional, they rake up pathos and, sensibility of the times. They are evocative of landscape, rural places, the river and ghats. They have history and landscape running through the veins. They are beautiful poems, placed here, for the reader to saturate in their quiet melody, poise and appealing imagery, capturing moments, in transition and at cross roads of time.”
JOURNEY
January night, grim and desolate
on a lonely moonlit highway
unfurling quietly, frostilly still,
rugged mountains scratching the dark,
nocturnal creatures calling the moon,
even the leafless trees whisper,
yesterday is gone, tomorrow is asleep
~
SILHOUETTE
solitary against the evening sky
in a land no longer hers she stands
leaning against an ancient tree
haunting–like a shadow of herself
overhead the branches braid the sky
uncanny limbs laid bare and stark
empty of all offerings
time stands still–like her heart
the sun has died a crimson death
easing her transition into night
~
RIVER – SONG
Reverberating with echoes of the past
iridescent against the silver of the sky
veering west along the fringes of the forests
embracing the contours of stony outcrops
roll the haunted waters in a deepening gloom
singing a requiem for things that are lost
of the people who are no more
nestled at its bank sorrow grieves
growing green with the slightest rain
~
PHANTASM
poised between the known and unknown
hidden in the depth of night’s shadows
an ancient dream lingers barely alive
nebulous, an ethereal remnant of desire
tangled in the endless skeins of time
a spectre of so many memories
sorrow fills my heart as I see it fade
merging effortlessly into the morning light
~
TOPOGRAPHY
That mole in the hollow of your back is a secret place
obscure till my tongue traces your spine’s trajectory
painting an intimate landscape, vast and varied
often the feral scent of sex clings to my skin
growing as you move to uncharted places
reclaiming territories old and new
and spaces filled with the weight of love
pressed together our bodies are a terra incognita where
heat lines radiate like the contours of the earth
your mole a primeval star leading me homewards
~
FUNERAL PYRE
fire licked corpses are the first thing you witness,
upstream the hot air carries the stench of death,
near the foul water mixing with the black ash
each body, covered in brightly spangled shrouds,
rests on a bier before being taken to a pyre
alongside the ghats that lead down to the river,
looking peaceful, but tainted with misery and sin,
pyres blaze, smoke rises, flames flash sunwards
you hear the cracking of bones, the crackle of logs
recently you were consumed in that searing heat
eyes closed dreaming, melting, floating, yielding
*Ghats – stone steps that lead to the holy river Ganges in Banaras.