Sunday, March 27, 2011


The shadows now fritter
In thickets of dreams,
As doubts now clutter
The sewers of self
And seeps through the strands
Of sheets of time
To haunt my skull
With signs of dread
That scream and swing
And shout and ask:

"What are the beasts that cry?
What sirens scream?
What are the chants that smother
The whispers on the stair?
What songs? How sung? How?"

Cradled and coiled I writhe,
In barbed-wire rhythms of night.


Robert said...

Interesting indeed.I like the phrase 'strands
Of sheets of time'.Are you sure soother is the word you would keep?Isn't anything else possible there?
This poem is giving me a strange feeling.As if a person is hallucinating or maybe undergoing a "Macbethian-crisis" before the crime.The quoted lines bring about a sense of impending death somehow.(I almost heard a ghost sing in my head.)A very strange poem indeed.Tell me something about it yourself.I'm curious.

Abin Chakraborty said...

you are on the right track.that is precisely the effect aimed for.but believe me, I am not contemplating any crime whatsoever!I saw a few weeks back a disgusting performance of Faust.but the power of the myth is such that it kept me thinking.I wanted to title the poem 'I Faust'.but chose not to because of the zero response to 'Ulysses Redux'.

Robert said...

Ah,now it makes a clearer sense.Now my verdict goes that it's a definitely good poem :D I like it. O I'm so happy today!U know,it rained so lavishly,so luxuriously.Sheets of water cascaded from the skies as if a mad fountain is making its wild way down through the air.It was majestic.I'm washed alive today and in my sheer ecstasy I did something I never did before.Crime?Well... Tell me,what 'crime' would you have loved to do had there been no restrictions on your actions for a day maybe?You are free to do what you normally cant do.What will you do? And oh,I forget,didnt I tell you about the ghost singing in my head?Have you seen the movie Beloved?Thandie Newton played the title character.You should hear the voice of Beloved there.I couldn't sleep for a week after the film.
And please,do change the title of this piece to what you had initially thought.It would suit well.As for Ulysses,I'll get back to you on that,soon... :) I spoke unusually extra today.Should stop now.

Abin Chakraborty said...

Uncanny! It rained in Kolkata as well today. The air is still moist with the smell of drenched soil which cold breeze carries from one window to the next.Whatever you did, I hope you retain this dripping vitality. cheers!

Robert said...

;) That's awesome!You too got a share of my rain.Dont you like rains much?You never wrote about one,not even when you were writing about love.You wrote about summer and spring.Not all people are rain-lovers though,my ex hated rain,fearing to catch a cold.(No wonder the person is 'ex' now). But you are a poet,you should write about rains,well,'traditionally' poets do that.Put in some art emotion,your woman and some rain and write a traditional ode.That would be nice to read.

Abin Chakraborty said...

Unspelt Desires Dance...that's the one on rain. and I am sure there are other references to drenched leaves and monsoon breeze.I like rains. as long as I am at home, that is. Rains in mountains are lovely too. But what bothers me is my water-logged streets which do end up spoiling the fun.And in Kolkata, the monsoon generally pours so relentlessly and heavily that it almost seems as if the sky is in mourning for some dearly beloved friend who has untimely departed. I cant cope with that gloom.

Robert said...

Yeah right,now I remember!Actually it was quite O-My-God-I-Will-Fall-Headlong-Into-Love-Any-Moment poem,so I missed out the rainy parts :D
As for rain,I agree that clogged waters are 'scary',but still waddling through a river of dirt and wincing desperately,shivering at the sight of dead rats,plastic packets,what-nots and yearning for soap is also a part of that city experience.I am as safe a player as you though.I love watching rain and getting wet on a balcony,infront of a window,a porch maybe but not on my way to anywhere.Love showers but I am very scared of thunder and lightning,heavy rain for days make me gloomy too,I feel claustrophobic and gasp for fresh air.But my love for rains actually originate in my childhood when I used to sit by the window with my father and watch the rain.Those times were very special to me.Being near dad and seeing the beautiful rain felt so safe and protected.My dad is old now.I am more of a angry person and mostly I tend to misbehave with him,get rude,simply due to pressure.I never ever could tell him how much I love him.Its so difficult to tell the people you love the most that you love them so dearly.I just hope he understands.I really never wanted to learn making paper boats because he used to make them for me and I used to float them in the puddle waters.I never learned the craft for it was my dad's gift,his specialty.How could I take the novelty away?Why is it so difficult to show them how much you love them? Why does rain signify bereavement to you?Did you lose someone on a rainy day?

Amrita Dhar said...

I dreamed my genesis in sweat of sleep,breaking/Through the rotating shell,strong/As motor muscle on the drill,driving/Through vision and the girdered nerve.


And power was contagious in my birth,second/Rise of the skeleton and/Rerobing of the naked ghost.Manhood/Spat up from the resuffered pain. (Dylan Thomas)

Sherry Blue Sky said...

A fantastic write. I especially admire the second stanza. It speaks to me. Good work.

Laurie Kolp said...

I especially like the first two lines... a profound ending.

Liz Rice-Sosne said...

PAIN ... PAIN ... PAIN, well described, tremendous intensity!

Unknown said...


Mary said...

Nightmarish, indeed!

Susie Clevenger said...

Nightmare artistically portrayed in your words...I especially like the ending...Cradled and coiled I writhe, in barbed-wire rhythms of night."