Pickle Heart

 

Your big brown eyes
Make mine green with greed
For a taste of you, so sour, so sweet
As succulent mangoes.
I pickle my flight of fantasy
With a dash of pepper from between your lips
And a dollop of your red hot rage between your brows
From last night’s fiasco.
Your cocoa eyes, forever squinting at mine
Questioning Love et all
Drip honey in my dreams, nonetheless,
And I drink up the dripping desires
Left untouched by you,
Ripe mangoes about to rot with time,
Forgotten lifetimes.
And so I return to you this time, yet again,
With the next question
Dancing forever on my unkissed lips,
“Tell me please? How many more lifetimes
Before we get this pickle bottled, sun-dried and sealed?”

 

 

 

 

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All rights reserved : ©Nivedita Dey, 2019

Moontime Maiden

That time of the month
When you drink yourself
Streams of steaming tea
Tucked in bed, white sheets
Blooming with accidental roses,
Birthing love poems dripping with lust
In memory of the multitude
Of cavemen you courted
Since your coming of age.

 

 

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All rights reserved © : Nivedita Dey, 2019

Mountain Man (Part II)

You burst upon my senses
Fiery Rhododendrons
Bursting upon unsuspecting branches
long after last Spring had departed
With all hopes of rebirth

You penetrated my Soul
Seeding me with incessant life
Daadim seeds, passion red
uncountable, potent, flames
Sprouting a whole new forest within my flesh

At times your harshness
The sour sting of unripe Hisalu
Making the eyes sting with blue,
Thorny branches stabbing the heart
I shudder, bite my tongue,
Lick my scars with a soft purr
Soon seek solace
In yet another mouthful of you
Mellow yellow nectar of love and lust
Dancing upon my prayerful, greedy tongue

At every turn of the winding course
In bliss of being blindly lost,
I lap up your voice
Suck hard at your words,
Hold your vision
All of you, deep within me
Mouthing sweet moanings of the mountain breeze

 

© All rights reserved. Nivedita Dey, 2019

Images courtsey : Source websites.

Yours Was —

 

That last face

— of fatal remembrance

and fated oblivion —

I kissed

Before I finally unshackle my Soul

From all

Of broken dreams – and butterfly wings

Now ready to leap

Into the bottomless ravine called Me.

 

That one voice

— of a silent sacred hymn

A steady hum of desire within —

I unsung

While it rose up coiled as incense smoke

Effervescent

Between my brows — elsewhere too —

Now ready to sleep

In the deepest labyrinth of my mind.

 

That one touch

— of unmade, feverish bed

And love that was never made —

I unbreak

All vows of sanity I made myself

Returning you to you – Keeping only a part —

Now ready to drown

In a forcefully embraced evanescence!

 

And now, as I stand

— kissing, unsinging, unbreaking

Myself —

Jostling to traverse beyond

The travesty of my own desires

Now disowned, now calling

You — won’t you stop me

From falling away

From Myself

And make me fall into You and I again?

 

 

Poetry © : All rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2018

Boundless -a Real Life Transhistorical Journey

Ola! Long time! Today am here to share a rather very-close-to-my-heart poem of mine that got recently published in The Harbinger Asylum magazine brought out quarterly by Transcendent Zero Press, under editor Dustin Pickering.

This poem is particularly close to my heart as this isn’t an imaginary piece of writing. This Really happened to me. Still happens. The Boundless time-space dimensions trans-historically just opens up before my mental eyes every time I practise any activity with Mindfulness. Present Moment Awareness.

I was recently listening to the famous Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh and was pleasantly surprised to hear verbatim this phenomenon in one his talks, where he says with  practise of Mindfulness you are able to touch the historic dimensions..all past, present, future.. And I cannot agree more!

This poem here is an example of just that – when the mind stands still fully in the Present Moment Awareness, the entire historic dimension almost bursts open into your world and visions of ecstasy unfolds as you touch unseen real worlds across time and space. It’s Real! It Is possible! Hope my dear readers enjoy this one and are also pulled towards experiencing this magic!

 

Boundless

I see
Floating in my frothy morning mug
Multitudes. Aeons of sweat and toil
Rising in brown scent of soil
My cup the holder of who knows how many
Hearts of the Dark Continent?

I touch
Gushing through my kitchen taps
Rivers, tributaries! Of Indus perhaps
Or the Tigris, the Mississippi
Endless miles of the Nile bathing me with
Blood and brine of Civilizations

I kiss
Rising coils of prayer between my lips
Perhaps ancient chants of pipe ceremonies
Birthed atop sacred Wayna Pichu old
Perhaps these rolled up leaves still hold
Maps of a Virgin land’s slavery?

I feel
Hugging my heirloom Cashmere piece
Breath of how many winter solstice
Ringing with bleets from Bethlehem
Irish hills, Aborigines fields teeming with
Shepherds of human Conscience

In each act – in every spec
That touch and melt in every thread
With Eden to Zion embedded in my loins
Boundaries I transgress

Boundless and I

Beauty and Eternal Beast
Entwined – enmeshed –
Harvest fields of Time and Space

© All rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2016

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About TZP, it’s a niche nest of thinkers/poets/writers/artists and minds much out of the box! This quarter’s edition has some lovely pieces both by several renowned and new poets, along with Pulitzer Prize nominee 2008, Heller Levinson. Copies are widely available on Amazon and links are provided below if anyone wishes to grab a copy. 🙂

Website :

Front Page

Links for copy of Harbinger Asylum :

India :

Worldwide :

Happy reading! Spread poetry. Spread Love.

Blogpost, poem and images © : Nivedita Dey, 2016

Blind Spine and Stalemate

A flippant slash
You’re blind to feel it
Only in skin
Look within
A gash so deep
You bleed as your dagger
Digs deep into another

Drop that coal!
Charred hands in vain
Busy burning faces
Palms it laces
With scariest scars
Too deep to ever heal
Crying hoarse for a sequel

This story never ends
Yet blindness pretends
Just one more trial
For justice we seek!
Meanwhile you reek
Along with your murderer
Your dagger as much in you
As it is in another

Read the distant clouds
Hear the thunder peal
It does reveal
One truth
Deaf ears don’t hear
Clench a two-tailed spear
Indeed! A two-way touché
You too bleed as blood you bay

© All rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2016

For Children of Polyhymnia

(Dedicated to Rachael Mead)

There my nocturnal repellent jar
Sucked empty
Here life blood too
One behind blood suckers
Another beneath blood boilers
Spent, done for, done,
Now my nights return
To mundane mosquito bites
And mysterious flying words
Stinging, evading, nagging,
Making a lesser uncanny hum
Than the Suns just gone by

There on a quasi trapezoid
One sips tea, sighs
Here on a quasi kite
I sigh, gulp in kinship
Each attempting to etch clarity
The geometry of life
Of an intangible familiarity
Of horror settling into the dusty carpet
Yet! Yet to bite the dust

Between flashes
Of fire flies between the brows
And loud claps
To kill winged blood suckers
What are nights made of
For children of Polyhymnia
And lovers of words?

© All rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2016

Rachael Mead is a dear fellow poet I very recently got to know and read. She is based out of Australia whose words can be read at

https://rachaelmead.com/

Do visit her site and enjoy her writings.

(Disclaimer as the Days might demand: This piece is purely a creative endeavour birthed out of moments, random reminiscences and poetic inspiration and executed with due poetic license and doesn’t intend to carry any direct or indirect intention to refer to or offend any person or place.)

Relapse Reinterpreted

…

A milk train of dark night
Stopped short on track
Whistles you back
To the womb of wounds
Again
And you sigh
And stare
At an unpromising sky

… ….

I wear my scars
With pride
Testimonial seals
Some call it a curse
Some others, tough life
And I long back
Have christened them ‘Proof’
Of battles, of Ubermensch
Of defeated javelins
Of jeopardised hope
Post mushroom cloud growths
Of isms, nihilisms
Of prophets of lies

… (contd)

Again two blogs come together for a cause.. a poem on mental health survival and relapses through the journey to recovery.. For the full poem please do visit my Mental Health Awareness Blog..

Relapse – Reinterpreted

Kindly reblog if you feel this is a burning cause needing much attention and awareness in our broken world filled with our countless loved ones hurting in helpless silence. Thank you always for your readership, love, encouragement and support, dear all.

Author © (poem, note and images) All Rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2016

Zen Pen (Fragment)

Walls wait for words
The world waits for words
I have none

Beggar Queen of words once
Now paupered Rich, richly undone
Wordless, serene

The train seeks iron wheels
Nail marks on barks of trees
I glide on breeze

Hands, mouths, ears, eyes
Seeking testimonial rites
Heady wordy wasps

Charring the hive, setting free
Fiery stings of worded spree
Poetry no more suffice

© All rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2016

Reclamation

The memory coke
With sun and air
Loses sting
No more choke
The thirsty throat

Buildings standing tall
No more smell
Of half eaten pizza
Moulded then
Pungency breezed
With seasonal sun

They say I write in riddles
Memory but a fiddle
Picking on strings
Mysterious ways
Now no more
Now trained hand
Holds the fiddling
To perfect angles
Drying pickles to
Perfect sun tanned oblivion

© All rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2016