WE VIEW - SUNDAY
Somrita Urni Ganguly, our Guest Editor for this issue of WE VIEW from Women Empowered- India (WE), gathers together poets, artists, musicians & writers to take a look at those 'Sundays' - bygone and present, whose memories linger in the heart... her SUNDAY emerges in translucent dream-like colours, to the soft tinkle of invisible guitar strings...
Somrita Urni Ganguly, our Guest Editor for this issue of WE VIEW from Women Empowered- India (WE), gathers together poets, artists, musicians & writers to take a look at those 'Sundays' - bygone and present, whose memories linger in the heart... her SUNDAY emerges in translucent dream-like colours, to the soft tinkle of invisible guitar strings...
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Another Sunday
A pause so uniform
across my days,
I wish it were scantily scattered
so that for once
it would align with my sorrow.
But the pauper that I am,
the only thing I choose,
Is the day to worry
Where:
Furnished with brittle plans
Stemming from hope
Is:
A life that a predator might grope,
Before it looms large
And consumes and chokes
On pauses that they placed to cloak(your sorrow)
But me?
I was raised in the barn.
Rest-
A drop from the brain
Of anxiety,
That falls on my gut
Lights up my being
With the impending doom of the sentence that I serve for 6 suns.
And you choose to call this day, such?
Overcome with-
A loan of a fee
of an overrated degree, binds me like a book
Of monochrome
that had once set me free.
A marriage on the brink
that never really sinks.
Dinner dates, an exhaustion
orders placed with caution.
Those 6 days to reclaim
The bills that can't be tamed.
A mind that has its shed skin in a box,
deserted, under the bed
sleeping on top of it, everyday
I see:
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