Anurag Talukdar

Nobody reads the letters that I write,
Few considers them as prose,
Though I prefer myself a poet.
...

An explosion deep within my heart,
Sublimes my very soul,
A feeling long obliterated,
Drags me back to my past, long forgotten.
...

Is there something wrong within?
Or the whole world is conspiring.
Demented souls with forked tongues,
Slitters their way around my sanity.
...

Lines curve strange pictures in our life,
Purple of dream melts into sorcery of dark.
I loved blue, while she erased her past,
Past confined beyond my reach, beyond my grasp.
...

Letting the memories slip through,
I try to decimate everything of you.

The tresses still troubles me,
...

Staring into the clouds hovering above,
No they are not threatening,
But like benevolent domesticated hogs.
I ponder, if I shall too rot my life,
...

Statutory warning:
The verses below are highly cryptic.
A plethora of enigma slithered around a treacherous labyrinth.
If you find your way through,
...

I died tonight,
Under the Mahogany tree,
Where the tired sunlight,
Fought its way through the dark canopy.
...

Why did I meet you?
And why did I hear you recite?
Now I can’t dream,
Nor can I fight.
...

A penumbra of petrichor,
Erodes my senses.
Ravels a tale,
Of ecstasy and pain.
...

I stay alone,
In the company of three walls,
Half naked but unashamed.
...

Somewhere, shielding my soul,
From the shower of capricious spears,
Slowly I have grown old.
...

Autumn of blood,
Sheds no love.
The flowers, now withered,
Annihilate my Dreams.
...

An empty floor, the silence pierces my ears,
A vagary of sight, hundred electric lights conspire.
My cabin, shades of blue and green,
My life wasted glaring at the deceptive screen.
...

The yellow sky spirals into a scream,
A hundred tortured sunflowers begging for mercy.
The absinthe river washes the sinful bed,
The room now naked, except canvas and sketch.
...

I smiled,
Seeing him once again.
Amidst the crowd,
We often stray from each other.
...

Crawling on its belly, dragging its long tail,
The white cloud touches the zenith of the hill.
Panting it rests awhile, letting the hill caress her,
A siesta slowly cuddles her into a world of oblivion.
...

Her words, a river of nubile passions,
Her smile, a sprinkle of ecstasy,
Her songs, an ode to the life's vagary.
...

I stir my dreams,
Adding few drops of desires,
The aroma swirls my passion,
The yearning gets stronger.
...

My words are my weapon,
My thoughts my shield,
I write prose and poetry,
But, still I can't forget thee.
...