Sunday Letters Poem by Surabhi Bhattacharjee

Lying under blank face of life
my words rolls round upon my finger tips
now i stumble in my blank page
where yellow dairy notes whisper
my Sunday letters.
Feathers of summer syllables
dance upon, overwhelming silence of mine
The emptiness of begger's bowls
is heard once more.


In next room, women travel-led
long road between, loving and not loving
that news goes, round of a million tongues.
And today i think, a half smile on my lips
words that escaping the cave, of mouth like twittering birds
shake their wings, on a window roof.

In a lazy Sunday
A squirrel sitting on a tree
Goat balancing itself on its two feet
Parrot upside down on a branch nibbling at fruits
my father's voice, echoing wearily from, corner of room.

And you began smiling, once again upon me
on my own, Testimonies, Anxieties, and Sorrows.