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Then I Pen a Verse and She

by Rima Sahamandal
(Kolkata, West Bengal, India)

Then I Pen a Verse
By Rima Sahamandal

The Convergence of my joy and sorrow ,
Momental euphoria or bruises I borrow,
When delicate zaphyre tickles my skin,
While stories I conceal in my hairpins.

While perplexed about what to be done,
When bizarre deeds give me fun,
While stealthily I drink tears of sorrow,
Cherish rain, be wanton about tomorrow.

While I immerse myself in crimson wine,
And relish an apple, which tastes divine,
While birds commence melancholic song,
And incites me to take midnight drive long.

When mysterious feeling surges in heart,
When I'm blithe about end and start,
Either unuttered joy or unseen scars,
All of them I'm prone to pen in my verse.

By Rima Sahamandal

She never wears precious pearl,
She's wanton about fatuous debates,
Is Nonchalant, when all scythe this girl
Who is proudly holding a cigarette.

She cares not about beauty white,
Never ponders about her lipstick shed,
As nature reciprocates when she writes,
Her poems can turn a withered rose, red...

Neither she covets
for any lover anymore,
Nor she relies the
Fanciful romance of elves;
She advances against
the frantic wind's roar,
Now She is engrossed
to profoundly love herself.

She dances with the wind,
She's dreaming to seize the stars,
She inscribes her verse on debris ruined,
She's making a ship for sailing far...

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