Sanjukta Nag

Sanjukta Nag Comments

Bharati Nayak 01 December 2018

Sajukta Nag is a fine poet with some amazing poems posted here. I enjoy her write.I wonder why she has stopped writing on Poem Hunter.Hope, she will come back to the Site and post her beautiful poems.

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Melvina Germain 12 November 2015

After reading the intoxicating words of Sanjuka, I find myself in that soothing place of calm, in a tranquil bliss smiling to myself. I come away with my thirst for poetry quenched and am fulfilled. It's a pleasure to read the work of a sister poet who seems to relax on a pedestal of peace and beauty.

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Vishal Sharma 30 October 2015

sanjukta naag the rising name in the field of poetry from india.she has the potential to ignite flames through her mejestic words.she has a storehouse of knowledge over poetry and she knows how to use words properly.Her poems are full of metaphors and twists and turns.She is the name with a golden title.her poetry is laden with great thoughts and thought provoking issues.Her poetry field is wide covering all topics and esp love verses.She is the rising queen over here.God bless u sanjukta.

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The Best Poem Of Sanjukta Nag

I Am Not A Poet

I am not a poet…
Though my pen had given birth to some poems
On the yellow pages of a torn diary
Under the afternoon light
Or a peaceful night,
That later transformed itself into fiery.
While everybody was enjoying leisure
The mild breeze of your thoughts
Shook the boughs of my imagination with pleasure.
The mystery of those creations is not unknown to you
The clouds of my condensed emotion
And sometimes a bit of desolation
Had poured the poems of happiness and blue.
But I was not the only evil
Your love made me responsible
To fill those words with rhythm.

Today empty is my poem’s box,
You were my insight
Your love was my inscribe
Now my feelings are hard like rocks.
Though your presence is still floating
With my every blood cell,
But the full moon of your love has hidden itself
Behind the darkness’s veil,
Only by waning time after time
Making me forget what is called rhyme.
Now my yellow pages don’t dream of rainbow
If there is no today left for us
There cannot be any tomorrow.
So, if anyone now asks me to write a verse
I’ll rather take it as a curse,
And say to them straight
That I've never been a poet.

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