Poems written by Pallavi Banerjee

And then darkness descends

And then darkness descends short poem

And then darkness descends. Full-throated with grains of void, It descends heavily like tar Down the deepest recesses Of night. Flows into its pores, choking, Deafening, blinding the eager Dark, receptive but stiff body Of a virgin night. Deflowering it

The Search

The Search short poem

Once, my tongue reached out Deep towards your heart In search of all the pain And dirt And grief And desires And the philosopher’s stone. In search of all that That made you seek me out Amongst the crowd of

Shelter

Shelter short poem

Nestled in the long loud smell of your kiss, Which reminds me of the smoke guzzling chimneys of my hometown And the yellow sunlight reflecting off our cemented yard Is the elixir of death, destruction and surprise. The surprise on

Muse

Muse short poem

In this part of the story, I will be the poet, and you my muse. I’ll draw my inspiration from Your chestnut brown lips, Your curved mustache And lustful eyes. I’ll float my words around you, Scratch them out and

November nights

November nights short poem

When the night train leaves the terminal, It’s body cold as a corpse, It’s lights alive as chickens in The butcher’s cage, I sit bunched up in my Flea market shawl beside the closed windows. I play that game of

To the night sky

To the night sky short poem

Every morning The sun rises afresh, I forget why I was so sad The night before. Why there was so much Pain and blood And loneliness In the darkened Speckled night sky. Every morning In my bathroom A determined Toothbrush

In My Flesh

In My Flesh short poem

Like most men in the past, Death eludes my ample frame. Though he strikes up Fascinating conversations, Helping me soar to newer Flights of fantasy. Sometimes he watches me From across the table as I empty Satches of caramelised sugar

Froth

Froth short poem

Under the warmth of summery stars And old, bored ceiling fan That help the heat descend From our cemented roof Onto our old wooden bed, Let us put our past and our clothes Behind the night. Let us play the

Oil On Canvas

Oil On Canvas short poem

The dead moon’s framed portrait Hung from the prussian blue sky, Staring downwards into the Lighted lonely city – With a well practiced air Of indifference. The pond with green waters And a cemented bank, Where local kids wash their

Electra

Electra short poem

Mother, one day I’ll tell you all. How they had kissed me, What hotel rooms I’ve been to, Which promises I kept Which ones I ran away from. Mother, one day I’ll light a cigarette Before your surprised eyes. And

Serpent

Serpent short poem

Every night, a fire burns bright Inside the cave. The one-eyed snake Comes crawling Drawn by the promise of warmth That emanates from the leaping flames. Its forked tongue struts in and out Like lightning. Its limp agile body Tightens,

Catalyst

Catalyst short poem

If not for that pitcher of ugly beer, We’d never have been in love. You for once would never have Made sense of my drunken chatter. Nor I found your stubble anything to Die for, considering how they prick My