underground<br />books.org
Like us on twitter facebook
  • UB
    • Roadside Assistance
    • 2013 NYC Poetry Festival
    • kiteFULLofWHISKEY
    • hotel romania
    • WHY we are different from pretend Genius
    • European Edition
    • The Unlikely Blond
    • [UND] >
      • INDIA
      • UBHomeVideo
      • WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A POET
  • POETS
    • Dylan Krieger
  • BOOKS
  • THE KITCHEN POET
  • SUBMIT
  • UB TRUTH
  • #JRPD
  • UBSHOP
  • UBTV
  • PS: Your Poem A Week w/ Philippe Shils

5 Poems - Shinjini Bhattacharjee

12/10/2013

1 Comment

 
Picture
1.Polka Dotted

Shed the skin you wear
It is the bone that interests me
The hushed soul,
The vessel smuggled by the
cupped hand hourglass
with seconds entwined like
fingers of love, breathed by
days bundled into an octopus arm,
blinking torchlight into shoulder shrugs.
A face criss-crossed with flower slits
and paper scraps with grandfather chair creaks 
looks up into star roof with mice burns
as the world screeches to
a halt at a newborn hand’s paper mache.
Exhaled breaths always defy gravity.

2. Syncope

Full stop.The circle is a square.
I open the door and enter
seagull smile,my room inside
the orange balloon,
exploding like a creeper plant’s hiss 
on false canopies of cold water,
the curling eyelids of Medusa’s tongue on the pin head,
the mirror scratching your iris
from the bottom of the glass.

3. Ruth

Sweat, the ripe water lunch                   
hangs from the daggers
imprinting faces
with freckles and wrinkles,
the skin’s perched albatross.
The knuckled wind from the apple tree,
the Narcissus of the miscarried cells
of adolescence,
stops by to drown in it.
Darkness scrubs the light
clean into Einstein mess.

4. Cemetery Song

Blurry handcuffs sit
on broken stones,
coffins burying water
beneath their

dampness squeezed
into ironboard chants
of the sunlit moon.

Horse hooves tire the grass
on which the crow sits
to soothe its chimney soot.

Light swallows
sobbing bedsheets

Petals on wrinkled faces-
Screaming mannequins.

5. Comma

the heresy of life,
stop to begin.
The dust burn colored legacy
between two exhaled breaths.
The room between
two owl bodied hoots.
1 Comment
Deborah Guzzi
1/21/2015 12:45:51 pm

I love how you 'stream' from word to word, rather than phrase to phrase or thought to thought with no concern for the passage of a finite message.

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    The Kitchen Poet is now Tumbling.  

    UB INSTAGRAM

    submit: go  here. enter text in box.
    Read the original 9 KITCHEN Issues
    Picture
    #1
    Picture
    #2
    Picture
    #3
    Picture
    #4
    Picture
    #5
    Picture
    #6
    Picture
    #7
    Picture
    #8
    Picture
    #9

      Join Our Free Raffle for a Kitchen Poet Cookbook!

    SIGN UP & WIN!
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.