{"id":1972,"date":"2011-10-26T12:11:33","date_gmt":"2011-10-26T16:11:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/wpblog\/?p=1972"},"modified":"2012-07-15T20:12:01","modified_gmt":"2012-07-16T00:12:01","slug":"hidden-divinity-poems-by-sonnet-mondal","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/hidden-divinity-poems-by-sonnet-mondal\/","title":{"rendered":"Hidden Divinity: Poems by Sonnet Mondal"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

Hidden Divinity<\/strong>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

I have been waking up each midnight,
\neach dawn, at the end of each passing hour
\nto see the squabble between darkness and light
\nresulting in red rays as blood of a celestial war at twilight.<\/p>\n

The morning with its cool breathe makes us
\noblivious to sounds that clatter like evocative dreams
\nand then sweeps us to silkiness in a land and sky
\nwhere multicoloured shrouds betray our keen vision.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere from you come and whither you hide?
\n<\/em>Why don\u2019t you keep us away from divinity?\u201d
\n<\/em>My questions seem to scatter with sunrays
\nor get lost in profound darkness;
\nbarking war dogs misguide us,
\nchase us towards sleep and then comes
\nanother night, when fright too has been dictated
\nnot to disturb us, while the evil and Gods fight
\nto show us another peaceable day.<\/p>\n

My mysticism must be of the lowest order;
\nthe perpetuity of\u00a0 heavens extends far beyond
\nthe darkness when I howl like a werewolf in pain.<\/p>\n

My Chained Faith<\/strong><\/p>\n

The far-flung whistle of the colliery
\n<\/em>and of the Calcutta-mail
\n<\/em>calls me every day after dinner.<\/p>\n

The train\u2019s shrill echo and
\nrhythmic melody of wheels
\nform a sublime image of
\nthe girl out of my dreams,
\nwaving and smiling;
\nscreaming and crying;
\nstanding and waiting
\njust for me amidst gasses,
\ntrees and hedges that wave
\nin solitude and hope.<\/p>\n

The curvature of the lopsided land
\nplays hide and seek along with
\nthe clouds and moon blurring realism.<\/p>\n

My belief is incurable and so is
\nthe facade of pleasure that I show
\nwhile I follow compellingly,
\nthe whistle of the colliery.<\/p>\n

My faith lies in the train,
\nin the wilderness and
\nthe vaporous figure of my love
\nwhile my whims are chained
\nwith famine and society
\nthat may identify me as a mad
\nonce I leave my job and run
\ninto the hazy backwoods.<\/p>\n

The Solitary Bench<\/strong><\/p>\n

A forlorn bench<\/em>, putrid with age
\nsits amongst vibrant foliage like
\na school boy waiting for his first love.<\/p>\n

The coarse rustle of
\nruling \u2018Gulmohar\u2019 flowers tries
\nto sway him in congenial talks.
\nHis silence forces the air
\nto rub them off his body;
\nlet him remain lonely
\nfor the guest deserves to stick
\nto his mad wishes.<\/p>\n

The figure that he is longing for
\nruns away from him
\nwith each day\u2019s dying in the
\never flowing tide of time.
\nStill, hope says no, wishes say yes
\nand the everyday falling flowers
\nquarrel with the dry leaves
\nriding upon withered braches,
\nto impress his soul and the day ends
\nwith the bench<\/em> shaking them off
\nwith the passing air.<\/p>\n

He sits for one and will not break
\ntill she comes running and sits on him
\njust like the day decades ago,
\nwhen these woods used to be a park
\nand the bench<\/em> was the friend
\nof her everyday indolence.<\/p>\n

Brooding Of A Bird<\/strong><\/p>\n

The brooding of birds poses
\nN number of locked doors
\nwhere, even supreme philosophy
\ncan find fodder for its growth.<\/p>\n

We have time for books and
\nthese scenes are beyond the white pages
\nwith ever accumulating concentration
\nsmearing red with thoughts of continued existence.<\/p>\n

Exhibitions can be a way to find them
\nif we are too busy to find the best
\nthat nature can give us with
\nits flying creatures.<\/p>\n

Lost<\/strong><\/p>\n

The \u2018Prairies\u2019<\/em> are to be blamed
\nfor the loss of my love…
\nMy affection was tossed above
\nby the winds, the slave of grasses.
\nI was puzzled through clear meadows
\nsearching for the letter that was nothing
\nbut a blank paper for her response.
\nShe is lost, her shrill laughs prick my anxiety
\nfor she might be one with snake creepers
\nentering into the delight of lust.
\nHer sharp breathes must be of approval
\nto let loose the creepers over her skin.
\nThe mortal and immortal has left me
\non my knees over the place where
\nnumerous such letters beg to be delivered.<\/p>\n

Two Worlds<\/strong><\/p>\n

A blue lake captures my soul in its
\nunmeasured, unimaginable depths
\nwhere a new world better than lands
\nsurvive drinking immortality.<\/p>\n

Howling wolves pierce melancholy
\nand the dropping leaves stuck with
\nfever of spring bows down
\nbefore the majestic stance
\nof endless sky and waters.<\/p>\n

Echo of unknown sounds emerging
\nfrom the interstices of the woods
\nrun wildly, circle around ears
\nlike unquenched souls.
\nStriking against trunks topless trees
\nthey become one with lingering serenity.<\/p>\n

The bridge connecting them to my land
\nis left broken for years,
\nperhaps broken by the Gods
\nand none has dared to swim across
\nfor both worlds gets bewildered
\nwith the laws in either side of the bridge.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hidden Divinity\u00a0 I have been waking up each midnight, each dawn, at the end of each passing hour to see the squabble between darkness and light resulting in red rays as blood of a celestial war at twilight. The morning with its cool breathe makes us oblivious to sounds that clatter like evocative dreams and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,223,219,199],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1972"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1972"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1972\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3257,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1972\/revisions\/3257"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1972"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1972"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1972"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}