Ipsita Paul

Ipsita Paul Poems

The Best Poem Of Ipsita Paul

Monotone

There may not always be subjects
Or, the sheer hypocrisy of a form.
But there's always convulsion in monotone.
Even the most explicit sky
Comes with the tail of a knocked-up rainbow.
The stack of clouds rules out
the humdrum sky over the horizon,
turning themselves into another
white streak of monotone in the end.
The river, the people devoid of life
and the lavishly thickened mud.
The constant frame of variable means.
But the radiance, venting out
through the same picture
differs from eye to eye, body to body
and mole to mole.
Which of the bodies can take in monotone
and make it immortal in the most articulate sense?
Can you make an incomplete boat ride whole
simply by waving to a total stranger?
Can you be red among blacks and whites?

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