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 Reeti
Roy is pursuing a bachelor's degree in English Literature from
Jadavpur University, Kolkata). Her poetry has previously been
published in the Literary Supplement of The Statesman, The
Telegraph and The Times of India.
I am the daughter
I am the daughter
of this vast wooden land
where unspoken myths
lie buried in the sands.
I am the daughter
of those who died young
those unsung heroes deprived
of their birthright
to speak
in their own tongue.
I am the daughter
of this blood-splattered land
where the stains reek of penury
and hack many hands.
Your love
Your love
is like a dead rose
wilted and withered
unable to withstand
the test of time.
There was a moment
not so many moments ago
When the rose bush burst into bloom
The red reminds me
of a dead love song
put to tune
on a dusty winter afternoon.
Don't stop listening ( Poem 5)
Don't
Stop Listening.
Your eyes
have stopped glistening.
Those tears
you've left
unshed
These words
you've abandoned
unspoken, unsaid.
Let us
go back
to the beginning
where there was
no end
You
Come
Possess me.
Before I bid adieu.
You love me, you love me, you love me;
You do.
Encroach
On my inner calm
Before it's time to bid adieu
My eyes appear senseless.
Your eyes, your eyes, your deep dark eyes
Interspersed with dew.
The darkness is humbling
The pallor is askew
Time flies by and the devil may care
For two lovers- me and you.
You brute
I adore you
Love me like you do.
Let me pervade the depths of your soul
And let me succumb to you.
Every woman adores a brute*
My lukewarm antidote
You stand there- a statue.
And now I know-
I will kill you.
Before I bid adieu.
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