Taking Flight

Meeting you was

Like a bird's wings beating,

As it took flight,

Seeing you smile was a true delight,

And my notebook was all I had with me,

Torn pages that fluttered in the wind,

Blame it on the bad binding,

All but the last page,

Covered in doodles

Which had your number written on it,

That page too will flutter away one day,

Just as hatchlings leave their nest,

The winds will carry it far away,

Or perhaps the sea will try to make the lettering fade,

But, I believe one day,

I'll find a scrap of that page,

That has your number on it,

Because I wrote it 

Using waterproof ink

The Bilge Master

Why Did The Chicken...

This poem is inspired from the photograph attached below. It was taken by a friend of mine, Shantam at Park Street

Yesterday as I was waiting for a cab,

I did not know that 

Instead of finding a way back home,

I would actually leave a question unanswered, for quite some time,

Standing at that street crossing,

I thought I saw something on the other side,

And I couldn't believe my eyes,

Which is perhaps what caused the camera in my hands to shake,

As the shutter closed,

You see I needed proof of what I was seeing,

Because it was remarkable,

Then I figured that perhaps,

I would have better luck 

On the other side of the street,

But it was dark and I did not see,

An open manhole waiting for me,

And so, I come back to the unanswered question,

Which has been somewhat modified to include a chicken,

Why was I crossing the road?

And the answer is, 

Because I was looking for You

The Bilge Master

The Self, and Greater Things

This is a guest post written by a friend in the Jadavpur University Dept. of English. I loved the way he ended it. Please welcome Koustav Naiya to the blog people! 

The Bilge Master

An empty page 

Was seeking words

But the mind reeked of love

An empty poet 

Sat by the door 

Stared at the stars above

He wished to rhyme

Of greater things

He sought a muse in war

Of lives that ceased

And left to rot

In the wasted lands afar

He looked for words

In the streets

And tales they seem to tell

Of the crowd

Their whereabouts

Of the town under a spell

He gazed around

Waited for a sound

For a whisper or a dream

He looked so hard

For a place to start

But forgot to look within