In the Name of Poetry

Saneesh Sajeeb

 

 

ALLURING BELLE

 

Amidst the swinging autumn leaves,
Her eyes twinkle in delight.
She sparked a grin piercing the breezy dusk,
Her lips embarrassed the rose petals as they hid themselves in the moonlight,
Her nesh tiny fingers teasing the falling phyllon,
Her jewels made her a mermaid springing from the Tomb of King Tut.
Her meticulous charm eased the ferocious of beasts,
She dazzled in the moon,
Anticipating her Romeo, with the promptness of Juliet.

 

THE GREAT HOLLOW

 

No known catechism exists on an eternal darkness,
Nor a soul has resurfaced to grant vision on the ‘Great Hollow’.
Leaving behind all the blandishments and ostentation of the superficial tangent, goes into the Hollow, no longer the joy of witnessing the ‘Lively Fire’.
Thy blunt rodomonte won’t save thee.
Neither thy beloved lass, nor the butterflies she mellowed thee shall perpetuate this ‘Hollow’.
O, thou human soul, thy time shall arrive to cwtch a night with no moon but, peril darkness.
Be thy good or evil, shan’t transcend it.

 

 

 SOUL OF SOLACE

 

The night looked serene,
As was her caress,
The moon shimmered through the spring leaves twinkling the same mischief as her eyes,
The sun was too strong for her delicate touch and the moon was too weak to embrace her,
Her eyes strung a melodious tune and her lips carved into an enchanting smile,
She smelled like Eden,
Her fragrance blossoming flowers twice as gorgeous as she is,
Her fluffy locks dancing in the twilight gale,
Each time the moon cast his sensual gaze at her,
She was the incarnation of beauty,
And beauty is love, the ultimate solace.

 

  ROARING RED, WEEPING WASP

 

I saw a mirage outlined with blood stains.
I peeped further into the mirage and, uhh, to my despair, felt a tiny droplet at the tip of my nose piercing the lively air.
Alas, my hands were not at its reflexive best to feel what just ended at the tip of my nose as if they never cared or rather, frozen in fear…
With the droplet untouched, I gazed into the mirage and saw people,
Feeding animals, sowing crops, harvesting, selling and buying and sharing all the most contagious enticing smiles into the inner depths of each other.

to be present in the only moment that might scatter in the secret of the dark matter.
I smiled at that harmonious symphony only to be awakened by the droplet that now dripped onto my arm and before I could make sense of anything,
Piercing yet, satisfied from the wicked outrush of anguish, eyes looked at me in point blank.
I have been stung, ahh, dear o dear wasp.
It was indeed a mirage and the blood red outline was not just red blood but, the saga of a storm that was the melody of a Chilean bard to fill the gaps between every unknown human fingers….brothers.

Here, I am left with the red drop of sting on my skin and the red hope of the Chilean phoenix on my soul.
As the wasp flew farther away in search of another skin, I stayed there,
unflinching, faintly contemplating on the

red weeping on the skin into the leaden abyss of the sand by the epic roar of the red from beneath the soul….

 

Saneesh Sajeeb is from Kottayam, Kerala. He is a graduate in English Literature from the University of Kerala. His poems have appeared in Puzha Magazine and Mangalam. When he isn’t writing, he enjoys traveling with his better half.