Two poems by Damyanti Ghosh

Play with me

by Damyanti Ghosh

Talking to you is like walking naked in the eastern breeze
I feel your touch in places I have never known existed.
Would you play with me, be my sun on this stretch of grass?

Let the call of the eagle hold the season in trance
while sunbeams play and dance to a silent song.

Close your eyes in an orange haze of touch and skin,
as clouds tease each other on the breath of May
and blackbirds play this summer noon.

Play with my feet, as I raise them one by one
play, play on the legs, play where they join,
play with my breasts, they wait upturned, plant your seed
in my waiting womb, play with me as that smile plays
on your mouth, let it play on my body, my earthen skin.

I am talking to you now, walking naked in the eastern breeze,
your smile touching me in places I have never known existed.

© 2008 Damyanti Ghosh


Creative process: Damyanti Ghosh: I mostly took down what the woman in the image prompt started dictating to me….this is the first draft, and I have not changed it much from there. The image prompt was taken from here.

----------------------------------------------------

Waiting

by Damyanti Ghosh

I thought you were falling in love with me, death.

Your kisses on my nape, your breath in my hair, are quivering still.

I sought the hollow of your breast, a cave of ice, where I could nestle, undisturbed, under warm quilted snow, for a slumber that knows no awakening.

I have looked to you, death, and you have looked at me for all the years that we stayed, surrounded by this blue haze, this illusion of certainty.

Swollen and sore, longing for you, my death, my body laid, warm, in waiting.

It sought your touch.

But my body was never on your mind, and it stayed, steady, breathing, white, like a song frozen on your lips.

You looked at me and I looked to you, laden with the weight of a gaze held too long.

You were once so near, I could have reached out and touched your skin, tender and shriveled as an autumn leaf.

I waited, looking over my shoulder, waiting for you to come nearer, but softly, death, you left, just as you had come, crept out of my veins in stealth.

I am tired, death, waiting, and still awake.

© 2008 Damyanti Ghosh


Creative process: Damyanti: This whole piece was written at a sitting the first thing in the morning, and while writing it I was not sure I was writing prose or poetry, but I guess it has turned out to be bit of both. I always write in a kind of trance, so am not sure there was any thinking behind this, only that I looked at the image prompt and the first line came to me. I simply took it from there.


Damyanti Ghosh is an established freelance writer, writing for various websites and magazines, who is now trying to figure out a way to step into fiction: a field she has touched before, but never professionally. She has written poetry for quite some time now, and hopes to become a writer some day: not just a published author, but a real writer in the truest sense of the word.

Damyanti's blogs:
http://amloki.blogspot.com
http://damyantiwrites.wordpress.com