Sunday, September 10, 2017

Confession 12 (The moon laments)

The moon laments and questions her absence
Sheds a tear and write a poetry about,
I sit looking through my window pane
How the clouds pass by, the days along.

The busy office hours and the crowded rails
The hustle bustle of the noisy city streets,
I search across the pool of men and women
And I hear you singing a jazz for me.

©Chandrajit Mitra

All that you are

If you were a poem,
I'd add some strings
And play you through the night
Till the camp fire goes off.
If you were a song,
I'd add some steps
And dance till my legs ache
Until the song goes off.
But you are merely a few lines
With no song to hum, no step to match,
I could only write you
On the last pages of my notebook.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Monday, September 4, 2017

Come to me

Come to me on this moonless night
Like the sun does in the morning
Every one I count in a year.
Come to me when the war is over
And thrones settled, crowns worn
And the fields bloodsoaked.
Come to me when the songbird rests
And there's no music to lend my ears.
Come to me when there's nothing left!

 ©Chandrajit Mitra

Tuesday, July 25, 2017


For days we stayed
And promises we made,
What remains when even
Ashes despise fire?
The starry nights, that
Witnessed us play fools,
Smirk and let a sigh,
The curtains call!

©Chandrajit Mitra

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Confession 11 (More)

Had I been more
My woman of dreams,
More than a mountain
You have had scaled.
Had I been more
Than a hundred seas
And a hundred bays
You have had sailed.
Had i been more
Than the endless skies
With barriers none
You have had flew.
Had I been more-
Just more of me,
And more of you, more
Than thee ever knew.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Do remember dear

Do remember dear
In drops of your tear
My name.
For I may not stay
For another day
The same.
Though back I must come
For the songs to hum
I claim.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Confession 10 (The Sad Poetry)

No more, I said, no more
Can I write verses for you!

Rhythm abandoned me
And my fingers don't dance
On white piano keys anymore.

No more can I write
A quatrain, describing
How we walked through the dirt
Of busy city streets.

Neither do I want to write
About you, not any more;
The night has consumed
All my thoughts,
My eyes see nothing,
But you!

At a distance, I see
Offices shut down
And people get back
To their houses.
I wonder if one
Goes back only to
Write about whom
They get back to.

May be once more I'll write
About why I won't write
About you!

Till then, let the night consume me
My darkest and saddest thoughts
And leave me with nothing
To write about you.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Friday, December 30, 2016

Confession 9 (Winter Night Blues)

Three winters have passed,
And the warmth of leaves
Being burnt to ashes,
Sound of children
Playing late in the evening,
Smell of the smoked meat
In the distant greens,
Takes me three winters back.
We trod different paths
That's diverged into
Worlds that know nothing
About the other.
It was the warmth of the leaves,
Helping me get back my senses
While taking away all I had;
Smell of leaves burnt to ashes.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Friday, October 21, 2016

Tell me, I'll fade away

Lets get drunk once again
And gaze into infinity, and
Explore the timelessness
Of what lies between us.
It's dark and black, and
You can see as far you want.
If you find a brighter star,
Tell me, I'l fade away, fallen.

©Chandrajit Mitra

Sunday, October 16, 2016

Star that bears your name

Look up and tell me
How many stars do you see
shimmering in the autumn sky?
Ask me if they bear a name,
Pointing out the brightest, I'd say,
'Pole Star there in the north'.
You point out at another,
Less brighter, less shining.
"And that?", "that bears your name".
A little pause in the conversation
And a smile to behold forever.
There are stars today too,
The brightest and the one less bright
And winds sweep the same autumn sky.
There're clouds forsaking the stars,
Too afraid to hide them behind.
You could count all those millions
But you ain't here by my side.
They all smile, they laugh, they shine,
They ask about you, O woman,
The first one to ask their names.

©Chandrajit Mitra