Two poems by Kushal Poddar

On Instructiveness

Tim reads the instructions manual for death –
‘Live fully, first step.’

It is a chirping feather that reveals
a bird came to the window to proclaim –
‘Rain would visit; today a Sunday;
art acts free of instructiveness,
theories, politics, choice.

Tim turns and sleeps; believe me,
dream features a war psychedelic
between what he desires and where hate flips
a coin with two heads.

 

Night-lamp Is On

Every throb in my head
taps a prosign, connotes an SOS,
and on the sleep’s askew rhythm
an iceberg sinks an ocean
to the surface too real to forget.

Let’s spell elusiveness as translucence.
My darkness threads the night’s flesh.
In the fish exists everyone ever drowned
and it swims inside me.
Let the bait think itself a top predator.
I sleep not therefore I am never fully awake.

..

Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)

Author Page – amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe

Four poems by Kushal Poddar

Crumbs On Your Metro Seat
,,
Your ex called you a whore,
although only as a metaphor-
a slap of leather on the days of tearing lace.
,,
The metro asks you
not to have a quick lunch.
Your crumbs on the seat widens their discomfort.
,,
Your ex called you last night
and apologized for calling you by mistake.
The station you alight is a Sunday clouded to loneliness.
,,
,,
,,
Paper Monster
,,
The monster lives in the papers
my father writes on my life.
,,
Come to the basement,
meet the bushy cats, asleep.
,,
In the cabinet, in the bureau
drawn by the years
,,
the life sprawls deep.
We must tip toe. We must see
,,
it from a distance so the ink
may remain blurred in
,,
the cage and sky of obscurity.
You must be curious, and I desire to show
,,
you the monster, you, the monster,
but the cats make my nose water.
,,

,,

,,
City Jam
,,
A vein and an artery
of the AC machine
seats when flies the finch.
,,
The hot wind your fortress
adds to the gully summer!
The dwarf houses! The secret
,,
of owning the street tap
before others arrive!
The swings of the red pipe, blue pipe!
,,
On the cornice gleam
the contraceptive pills
you threw away on the Mother’s Day night.
,,
Far below, city grows
with tin shades, tanned boys
arrowing the Venus of the dusk.
,,
From the bay, a cyclone says,
” I’m inevitable.”
So are the finches. So are the finches

,,

,,
Finding Mother In A Closet
,,
She thinks she has blood
on her hands-
the same those shake so
she can’t sew anymore.
,,
I say,
“I’m alive. Father is.
There is no blood. At least
not on your skin.”
,,
Everything was dead.
Night plays a little jazz.
Then begins the world news.

,,

Edited the online magazine ‘Words Surfacing’.
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’ (Spare Change Press, Ohio), “A Place For Your Ghost Animals” (Ripple Effect Publishing, Colorado Springs), “Understanding The Neighborhood” (BRP, Australia), “Scratches Within” (Barbara Maat, Florida), “Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems”  (BRP, Australia) and “Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems” (Hawakal Publishers, India)

·         Author Facebook-https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/

·         Twitter-https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe

Latte Silk by Kushal Poddar

You wheel out your mother’s latte silk

into the picnic of moths.

 

Silence. Silence.

Then a wheeze of some other insect.

Your fingers are alight.

Their blazing forest burns towards me.

..

 

 Kushal Poddar has been widely published in several countries, in anthologies including Men In The Company of Women, Penn International MK etc, Van Gogh’s Ear, and has been featured amongst the poets for December by Tupelo Press, Vine Leaves Literary Journal’s Best of 2014 and in various radio programs in Canada and USA. 

He is presently living at Kolkata. He is editor of the online magazine ‘Words Surfacing’ He authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’ (Spare Change Press, Ohio) and “A Place For Your Ghost Animals” (Ripple Effect Publishing, Colorado Springs). The forthcoming book is  “Understanding The Neighborhood” (BRP, Australia).

Gothic Zen by Kushal Poddar

Raked, cleared a space.
For days and some
no one comes to
see my mind-garden,

and then a sleight
of wind brings
a school of leaves.

I hold my rake
upright, straight.

The Brief History of I by Kushal Poddar

In this room- I, dying,

coughing an ocean

that breaks against the wall,

..

and in the next- I, alive,

my head bangs against

the headboard, dazed, loving,

..

and like good neighbors

we never ask, tell,

never think how we make

..

the history of I.

Every time we greet

each other on the stairs

there flashes a news-line,

unread but logged nonetheless.

Crusoe, Again by Kushal Poddar

When you think of it,

tomorrow

is an island of light,

hence unseen, and I hide

that I lost our tickets.

..

The ferry

passes through my eyes.

At night

I wake up blind and look for

the travelers’ handbook

and time.

Entourage by Kushal Poddar

A sad man greets his sad entourage,
hookah bar, coiled smoke, motion sick sloth,
intentional delaying before home.
Fire burns again and again.

If you imagine Phoenix as revival,
think of the deaths it welcomes.
Imagine light. There exists
a dam and a turbine somewhere, toiling.