Gopal Lahiri ( India)

Gopal Lahiri ( India)
 
Gopal Lahiri was born and grew up in Kolkata. He currently lives in Mumbai, India. He is a bilingual poet, writer, editor, critic and translator and widely published in Bengali and English language. He has had three collections of poems in English. Anthology appearances (among others) includes National Treasures, Indus Valley, The Silence within, Indo-Australian Anthology, Homebound, The Dance of the Peacock, Illuminations. His works have featured in printed journals like Indian Literature, Taj Mahal Review, CLRI, Haiku Journal and in electronic publications Arts and Letters, Underground Window, Muse India, Setu, Dead Snake, Tuck Magazine, Debug, Eastlit and Coldnoon Diaries. He has jointly edited the anthology of poems: Scaling Heights and is the recipient of the Poet of the year award in Destiny Poets, UK, 2016. He can be reached at glahiri@gmail.com
 
 
Wordless
 
Sometimes I hear footsteps, sometimes not
you pull the curtain,
we invite vanity, not love.
 
when words chose you, not me
a meaningless divide,
I want to escape
 
baritones in wordless conversations
the truth is buried,
how do I tell you?
 
cloudless evening holds promise
wooing our skin,
you end up with a spherical smile.
 
what about missing the raspberries?
sugarless mouth
insulates me from your sweet tongue.
 
 
Mindscape
 
Outside
the twilight time stays down
as if in a primordial soup
 
no water, no land, no life.
 
on the brow of the hill
the land drops suddenly, you see
miles of sand, rugged cliff, crushing waves
 
drift into enchanting dreams.
 
in the druid heritage
you are for scaling the summit
now want to land on the silver sand
 
a welcoming space.
 
shadows melt
clouds secure every corner of the sky
the truth is reversed
 
it seldom is.
 
 
Rainprint
 
With the turn of the season
The pigeons look for a new home,
Reaching for the grilled balcony
Not reading monsoon annuals.
 
Still they want to see something,
Cull some angry mages from
The glowering clouds
 
Now pause for the break.
 
Before the dreary night
Carve out a painful story,
 
Before the morning haze
Blankets the fields with dawn
Mist all around,
 
First raindrops and stormy winds
Usher us in.
 
This only the discourses brewing between the
Perched streambeds and crinum ground lilies.
 
This only the way brooks start gushing water
And the oriental dwarfs finds rainprint.
 
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