Monday, October 1, 2018




I know it’s very selfish of me
to hold you in my quiet musings
and finding relief, filling you
in my dream-torn mornings with joyful yearnings,
and, keeping you within my deep bedim, as an illumination.
You, oblivious of this selfless submission.

I write in cursive, the jealous joys of affinities
feeling the tremors inside, that subside
on my lips in breathless sighs
pruning my heart’s infinite melancholy.

You stand mimicking the shades of the perpetual dawning
helpless, as the hours steal your vibrancy
the golden...the crimson... the orange                   strangely, I suck them all in,
and the colours in you fade in me
enveloping my whole being.

The wafting wind whispers in daunting fervency
but, the discrete fire of inexplicable  urgency
sinks in, to find a refuge inert
in the crevices of my tempestuous heart.

The loud pulses knock on the skin,
the bones prick in denied liberation.
The silky shift of time laughs at the uncommonly intentions.

One autumn habitually you’ll claw
at the wreck of my night in
searing breaths, that sunburn
the eons of memories pieced together;
each, fighting to wake up the mind
from a galvanic stupor.

And the next spring, we’ll scrape with a rasp,
the last few lines, of a unique story of longing.


We are flipped as stones
across the sea
of dreams that we can’t loom
and the dreams we wish to see.

At the vortex of emptiness
shadows of different hue
blend without clue
with these moments of evanescence.

Wallowing in wild images
in transience and its resonance
the desires and dreams combined
leave nothing but sufferings behind.


Your musky essence is a Renaissance of lust

disintegrating my honest integrity to dust,

bringing back days, I had fallen at your feet in specs

and you had trodden on them with disrespect.

My pallid anaemic heart in pain bled

till I could bleed no more, still your inflictions remained unfed.

I feel vulnerable every time, all the same,

but, thoughts run wild and feelings go untamed.

Emotions, both innocent and guile, churn in a grinding kiln

in my thoughts deep, pure and true

like an ocean in rage, quick in tiding sin

the crude darkness of your exploit intrudes.

Whenever you come, I pour myself in a grail

to give you a new lease of life without fail,

you drink me sip by sip, and you drain

every drop, until nothing in me remains.

Then, you laugh at the hollowness of the heart

that echoes in my diligent soul inert.

The sound gurgles in a vacant chest,

the last surge of emotions

ooze like droplets coming to the crest!

I offer the ambrosial potion depleting my existence.

Your aphrodisiac essence rules my



NANDITA SAMANTA a resident of Kolkata, West Bengal, India. She is a relationship and parenting consultant, secretary of creative forum, a multilingual poet, a short story writer, a reviewer, an artist. She is a winner of poetry competitions organized by popular websites as etc. Her poetry collection, ‘Scattered Moments’ has found good readership, is well appreciated and reviewed. Her poems and short stories feature in various international and national anthologies, magazines, journals and e-zines. Poems have been aired in the U.K. And US radio channels and also have been translated by renowned poets. Her paintings have been showcased and sold at various exhibitions.

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