Volume 3 Issue 4, October 2019

Amrit Mishra

The Vineyard of Memories

I remember the repugnant smell of loss

I remember the moistened eyes

There is no Karma business here

What is lost is lost forever!

 

Scars are no more a skin thing

There are dents in a million hearts

Where do you bring that mannequin smile from?

 A spasm you carried from your last remembered loss?

 

Some were promised the eternal return

The others await other saviors

 Meanwhile prying on each other

The preachers preach their lot

 

I do not know if Hindus, Sikhs or Muslims

Feel hunger differently

All I know is both beggary and knavery

Practice no religion- for hunger is their God

 

You live intoxicated- die intoxicated

Reeling in your fear

Life is but a dusty haze

A vineyard one must clear.

 

 

After the End of Inertia

Remember the pull out into this word?

How unpleasant it was to that infant

Wailing while the other chuckled,

Celebrated with sweets and more

 

Stealthily life crept into you

With all its infirmities- insecurities behind the door

Let alone the big problems and big solutions

I have seen into the heart of man

 

I have seen men praising cowardice

Calling it practicality

Holding on to temporal visions

Of fame, wealth and the afterlife

 

The prayers will come to an end

All fathers go back to the sands

And mothers wail till the end

We pass like foul smells passing through barren lands

 

Laurels, castles and other paraphernalia

The half lived promises of eternal oneness

Are but a matter of one breath more and another less

The human drama of inertia

 

 

From Motherhood to Widowhood: A Tale

My mother was servile

They called her as simple as a cow

She bred me, fed me and did all that

A woman’s duty they called it then

 

She never got tired, only she sweated

Sometimes making my bed

And sometimes being my father’s

And yet she was hated

 

I grew up and separated

I was grown up after all

Yes she felt left on an isle

Yet she was too young to be fragile

 

I remember that night

When drunk after a fight

My strong father!

Jumped off the bridge and died

 

They broke her bangles, helped her cry

She didn’t say a word then

She doesn’t say a word now

Only shakes a little and gazes through her silent eye.

City lights and Metro Dreams

In the city of success, away from their small town place

Small people struggle to become big people

Big as the buildings, posh as the limousines

Ashamed of their small town ways

 

They pretend a certain tongue

They try hard not to gaze

At the gaping inequality

They know not what they chase

 

They are quick to self impose

Pictures in every pose

From the Gateway, The Taj and Hotel Hill Rose

Proclaiming progress and success at a young age

 

Yet when at night, the city sleeps to rise

Those love bereft eyes, they wait

They wait to be rescued, to be saved

From the sin of their lies

 

Men without roots

Like vultures in the skies

They rise, Yes they rise

And yet the sad owl sighs!

About the Poet

Amrit Mishra is a Junior Research Fellow in the Department of English Literature at the English and Foreign Language University, Hyderabad, India. He has a Masters in English Literature from St. Xavier’s College, Ranchi India. His poems have been published in the past in his college magazine. He has presented papers at several national and international conferences and has several international publications to his credit. He is interested in poetry and music alongside academics.

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Published by The Alternative.