An earthen trumpet
Sings the tune of yester years
The pattering rain of memories
Was laid in edifice not just in a day
But ’tis made of measureless
Conversations infused with a bhaar of cha and char minar
Profused with opulence and ubiquity.
Evenings the scent of petrichor,
The melody of your company resonates
With the scream of my silence,
Echoing its way
Into the depths of my heavy heart
Weaving a journey of words
Of love and spite,
And black and white
And somewhere in between
We found our grey
Like ashes off our daily cigarette.
Find me love, in every sip of the same amber liquor
That you sip in the verandahs of melancholy.
Find me, in the unturned pages
Of a book that lay buried with dust and biblichor.
Love, come with me
Walk the forlorn alleyways never explored
Pierce through the smoke of
A myriad poignant remembrance
That remain with me.
And now, I lock within you.
Let me be,
Content in the whiff of your cologne
Lingering into each deliberate pretence of mine
Let me dwell in the reverie
Of words forgotten,
Let me turn in the happy despair
Of a heart as soft as stone.
We present to you the first collaborative poem of Manipal Poetry Writing Month. Priyanjali Roychoudhury writes on rain, melancholia and despair, along with contributions from Reetobaan Datta.