moth

Poems

Gently—so gently—with care

He curled up in bed,

And the mourning forest said—

‘Crawl back to your shell’,

Oh, bed!—snug and warm;

He tugged, hugged her close

And I crawled into bed,

Oh, bed!—of barbed wire;

He slithered through her sleep,

She writhed in her dream,

Barbs—stinging my purulent sores,

Steaming them, until just tender;

And her wonder eyes opened

Still floating in longing dream,

With lonely molten frozen tears

I smelled my burning scars,

Barely going through the motions

Hustling old habits, he asked—

Do I feel the pain?

Half conscious—numb in cold?

'Who are you thinking of?'

Deep breaths—I'm almost there,

Yet to reach—though near;

 With lies—lies—more lies—

 Through the night's darkest hue,

 Only once, could she say—

 'Not you'.

by dyutiman mukhopadhyay.

February 2021;

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY.

Sleep! My crying poems—

Sleep! Sleep for now!

Sleep! Till the Moon calls you at dawn;

The Sun has long woken in the musk deer’s dream—

Myrrh and frankincense of innocence—yearn;

Oh! Fear not—the tear of burning Sun!

Cold! ‘tis cold! and waiting to cry—

In dark-hued nocturne!

—dyutiman mukhopadhyay.

February 2021.

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY.

(Portrait of a poem leaning against the bosom)

The entwined warmth,

Yearns for an eternity—

As our lines,

Waltz in Sunlight—

Naked and shy—

In unabashed joy;

And the ‘cold light of Paris’

Jaloux—

Run aground­,

Trying to clothe you.

—Inspired by the 2019 film ‘Curiosa’ directed by Lou Jeunet.

(the picture is a screen-capture from the film re-designed in Adobe CC):

A passionate love story set against a backdrop of sexual freedom, loosely based on the relationship between 19th-century authors Pierre Louÿs and Marie de Régnier.

Stars: Noémie Merlant, Niels Schneider, Benjamin Lavernhe.

The poem, June 21, 2022.

Two copulating ladybirds sprawl on the Taegeuk circle,

Ignorant of its fame—in blissful oblivion;

Oblivious to the scorn of black and white,

And the fifty shades of grey.

I once saw a man boot two stray dogs—

While locked in consummate spell.

A big blind spider stared at me

As I loved myself to an empyrean trance—

And after I came, he still stared at me—

Stone, lone eyes—fixated and sad,

Until I realised—it was delusion;

Or was it?

What is there to uncover—

In a vision of magic?

The meaning burns to ashes

In a pulse of levitation—

In Desire,

In Prayer.

March 2023;

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY.

Shot on January 3, 2025; Cochi, Kerala, India.

Camera—Xiaomi Redmi Note 8 Pro.

The courting breeze catches a breath—

Still, she shivers—frozen in time,

I watch her—

And I wait—

For the next tide.

                 —dyutiman mukhopadhyay.

Also see: Photo Essay: TOUCH AND THE RIPPLE

Poem, November 26, 2023; Bangalore, India.

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY

A flower blooms from a bud—

You are not a flower.

You bloom from nothingness—

In the want of the hollows,

In the echo of Petrichor.

A shadow blooms from light—

You are not a shadow.

You bloom from a Prayer—

In the mirror of the first rain,

In the thirst of a Vision.

And then—

Only then,

Can I see you.

                                       —dyutiman mukhopadhyay.

Also see: Photo Essay: PETRICHOR.

Poem: November 16, 2024;

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY.

November 15, 2024;

Bangalore, India;

Camera—Xiaomi Redmi Note 8 Pro.

Be soft…

Be kind…

Be petals of a flower—

I bend myself lower—

In fetid, rotting green—

In dripping pearls—

In a shimmer of the sun—

I am trying—trying…

Can't I sit by your side?

Ever?

Crying—crying?

What else remains to combust?

After the long lost time?

In the sultry summer dream

I melt into green—

Fetid, rotting green—

I miss the forehead kisses—

Sweet, gentle, kind hisses—

Holding hands—

I gasp—gorged in blood—

You rest on my crest—

On my face—

Breathless—

We rinse in bliss—

Poems—

Peace—

Couples made in heaven—

Us—

And the raven…

I swim in the swamp—

Why bother?

I swim to smell the stink that maddens the microbe—

And as I probe—

I bend myself lower—

In fetid, rotting green—

In dripping pearls—

In a shimmer of the sun…

I am trying—trying…

—dyutiman Mukhopadhyay, January 2025.

Poem: January 14, 2025; Bangalore, India.

Photographs: January 1st, 2025; Kerala, India.

Camera Canon 60D DSLR.