Partha Chatterjee writes

The Firefly 

They can't see the way
as light glows on their back.

A weaving bird carries them all. Driving their heads into cow-dung, he illuminates his nest.

If they were mine-workers, they must wear lighted caps on their head, and perhaps would not lose their way, even in dungeon.

Partha Chatterjee writes

The Firefly 

They can't see the way
as light glows on their back.

A weaving bird carries them all.

Driving their heads into cow-dung, he illuminates his nest.

If they were mine-workers, they must wear lighted caps on their head and perhaps would not lose their way, even in a dungeon.

Partha Chatterjee writes

Sex

How
cyclic
and
transitory
the supreme moment is!
How long can an hour-hand merge
into a minute-hand?
Soul tries to penetrate soul.
Body is a barrier. 

Erotomechanics VIII --  H. R. Giger

Partha Chatterjee writes

I stare into your eyes 

My stare 

Crawls up
Your rosy
Cheek as
A reeling snake
To reach
Your pupil,
A safe hole
For hiding.

Time is
Chasing after
Me with a
Stick in hand.

But it glides
Down
Several times

For your
Cheek is
So smooth
With coyness. 

 

Snake with Woman -- Kalhy

Partha Chatterjee writes

Coy Mistress #1

Her eyes
Full to the brim
Flow murmuring
As a stream.

The boy stares
Into her eyes
And silently
Sets adrift a
Boat there.

But the
stream
Convulsed
With shy
Lowers
Water-level
And flows
Knee deep

Leaving the
Boat glued
In the mud.

The boat,
Hopelessly
Hopeful,
Waits for
A next tide.

Coy Mistress #2

Her eyes
Full to the brim
Flow murmuring
As a stream.
I stare into her eyes
And set adrift a boat there.

But the stream
Convulsed with shy
Lowers water-level
And flows knee-deep
Leaving the boat glued
In the mud.

The boat
Hopelessly hopeful
Awaits for the next tide.