By: Sneha Subramanian Kanta
Sometimes when words delude
One may hope to start with a prelude
Quiet corners have intense rumblings profound
With fire like flames burning ceaselessly around.
Surrender to the dark
For ’tis the only companion that doesn’t mock
Among random faces of people, all seem monochrome
Life is such, embossed with engraved undertones.
Palate of vast stretching skies, a bird lurks
Finding for hope among a wide murk
Being carried away from a planet of rage
Sin here is not devoid even if you are a sage.
Taciturn eyes ; a reservoir of uncharted pain
that aimlessly settle on brows, not entirely in vain.
I have walked graveyards, dust settled unalloyed
On inscribed death dates resonance deployed.
A relic of postmodern where meaning unsought
The callous write philosophy of what life is about
Abandoned stir of territories beyond sublime
At the end, all of it into dust intertwines.
[Sneha Subramanian Kanta is a poet, writer, critic from Mumbai, India. She works as a lecturer of English in Mumbai. She is also the Assistant Editor of Rangoli, a journal published by Charnwood Arts, United Kingdom. Her poems have recently been selected for publication in an anthology of Indian poets in an anthology to be brought out by Hidden Books Press in Canada. Her research papers and works have been featured in several national and international anthologies and journals.]