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Sonnet Mondal

Blue Collar Twister

 

 

 

Sweat tries to swim upwards through the hairs

of a labourer building the statue of the herald

but fails and falls in the soil sucked up by heat,

vanishes as a struggling animal in quicksand;

Dreams drain and entity turns into fossils as slippers

walk over it.

His weapons are a chisel and spade;

He lifts them to protest but vacuum wailing in the curves

of his muscles makes it fall again on the mummified ground;

just to dig, dig the ground for

the Herald's statue must stand firm

or his existence will be buried under its

falling weight.

Toils will evaporate with the smile of the moon.

The dawn will hear sounds again-

sounds of iron striking against rocks.

The air waits to weave those sounds

and strike a twister with them-

Tall enough for the world to see

bold enough to step over mountains

Clear enough to show the waving hands

begging a day out of slavery.

 

 

 

Poverty of screams

 

 

 

In the tattered parts of the hand woven fibres

naked poverty of screams

amid roaring drunk waves of wine bottles

whirling in synthesis with partying proverbs

echoes against posthumous walls

to add the colors to a faded terrain

sipping dripping sweats of a dead beat life

which has spent decades to get up from work

to smile at the gone days.

 

Foliage and twigs rejuvenate themselves

with the waters discarded out of the musical chair game

with splashing music dying out

in swimming strokes of fatigued hands.

 

Each day swimming fog blurs smiles

Crawling clouds dance with tears

and changing seasons paint poignant outbursts

yet the little life left in some corner

takes a swing in the estate

where a Rolls-Royce warms up each evening

and Rolexes add motion to stillness.

 

My Chained Faith

 

 

 

 

The far-flung whistle of the colliery

and of the Calcutta-mail

calls me every day after dinner.

 

The train’s shrill echo and

rhythmic melody of wheels

form a sublime image of

the girl out of my dreams,

waving and smiling,

screaming and crying,

standing and waiting

just for me amidst grasses,

trees and hedges that wave

in solitude and hope.

 

The curvature of the lopsided land

plays hide and seek along with

the clouds and moon blurring realism.

 

My belief is incurable and so is

the facade of pleasure that I show

while I follow compellingly

the whistle of the colliery.

Enigmatic Winds

 

 

 

Enigmatic winds

curl up into fragments of breezes

drilling into the death of winter

embracing the hologram of breathing sand.

 

River beds,

as they embark

upon the edges of southern winds

and Conifers scream their complaints from the north,

focus of life desolately oscillates

as a beacon  from light houses

with paws of the carrier Griffin

proceeding in the shades,

improvising posthumous caveats

popping up as robot heads of night guards.

 

Pages of an expedition

crumble beneath old pirate-ships

(roaming in a nomadic famine struck by avarice)

fall in and spread again

upon the cushion of rootless waters

led by enigmatic winds

in unfolded folds of untold tales.

 

 

 

Unusual Shiver in Winter Days

 

 

 

She was a creeping winter,

coiling and settling into the wardrobe

of my lined collections-

 

of cassettes and clothes

(Scattered in a bachelor’s room)

 

Suits arranged by brands

fragranced by sensuous nights

brought by you molded me

into a gentleman

below uncombed hairs

and unwashed hands.

 

I was into lessons to be clean

while

I was feeding on my love.

 

From a scrappy life

beside a pond

abound with weeping cranes

she was the only fish

in front of my hungry beaks.

 

Short-lived and destructive

as most pleasures are

I am wedged back

back into an untidy shiver

 

from an act worthy of no mercy.

Sonnet Mondal is the founder of The Enchanting Verses Literary Review. He has authored eight collections of poetry. His recent works have appeared in The Sheepshead Review, Nth Position, Fox Chase Review, The Penguin Review, Two Thirds North & California State Poetry Quarterly to name a few.

 

National Record holder as the first Indian poet to pen a new type of Sonnet poetry, Sonnet Mondal is the founder of The Enchanting Verses Literary Review and has over 200 international literary publications to his credit. A multiple time international award winner, Sonnet is among the very few Indians who have been featured in Stremez(Macedonia), The Sheepshead Review(USA), Nth Position(U.K.), Fox Chase Review(USA), The Penguin Review(USA), Two Thirds North(Sweden) & California State Poetry Quarterly(USA).