Banalata Sen

Kohled eyes. Faded bindi. Vermilion crumbs.


Sudden storm. Right. Wrong.


Scarred lives...

Lust

Untidy dreams. Undone hair. Unusual pervert.


A midnight slice. A piece of dawn.


Stranger souls. Familiar poetry...

Confessions

You. Me. Stranger stars.


Drenched, at a skin's length.


A bit of filth. A bit otherwise...

Poetry

Myopia. Untamed stubble. Pale eyes.
Words. Snakes and ladders...



Love seeks a new address again. Again.
An artist or a lecher?



Charm. Vulgarity. Realism.
Abstract? Diseased??

The midnight tales

My love, spoilt and sour
Is it real or just another fable?



Marooned democracy, over a cup of tea
How much of an actuality? How much of a lunatic?



You. Me. Drenched in the inexpensive city-lights
A dream, or just a miscarriage? 

The other side

You. Me. Aesop.
All dead. All alive.



Sane. Insane. Borderline.
Who's who?



Imagination. Illusion. Fantasy.
Where do you draw the line?

A thousand times...

A thousand times, I thought of telling you
But, I couldn't speak a word...



A thousand times, I thought of writing to you
Poetry, I could never afford...



A thousand times, my city felt the rains
And yet, we could never get drenched.....