Four poems by Saheli Mitra

On Power Wings

By Saheli Mitra

Flying on the wings of a pink flamingo,
your scarlet teardrops made way through the burnt branches
of cherry blossoms;
That died a thousand deaths
just like your atoms did.
Ripped by fission of monstrous elements, 
apocalypse of power. 

Dark rain clouds that often rippled down 
your black mane,
got scorched in the killing heat.
Turned to vapour, 
that never brought rains to singe the parched Earth,
but only dust.

Dust to blow away
generations of atoms in wombs, 
in schools, at parks, in hospitals, on streets.
Atoms with pretty nuclei 
that once formed robust pink cheeks, 
lively smiles, childish chatter,
twinkling eyes that went blind.
Your skin like shiny alabaster, 
Molten in the atomic heat
of a human furnace of hate, war, subjugation and victory.
Atom bomb that I made in my powerhouse, 
to prove
I am the creator,
I am the destroyer,
I am the power.

I rose from columns of destruction,
War won, supremacy established.
Yet, I could see a thousand 
white cranes you sent on an autumn morning, 
with your letter of love. 
My bomb couldn't melt them.
They still flap in the breeze
like the pink flamingos
on your molten flesh.




Crown Uncrowned

Bejeweled crowns, sparkling thrones with precious stones,
Standing in some unknown corner of a stately tomb.
Hanging cobwebs, forgotten dust,
lined on their pride.
Their masters hidden in some pages 
crisp and yellow, of history books, 
peeping through a somber grave.
Those who killed, they who conquered,
some who plundered, won wars,
made slaves of colonies invaded.
Bullets and swords sparkling still,
Blood on hands, trickling down 
robbed wealth of their loot.

Yet, they lost the battle of life
To those half clad men sowing in fields,
Quarrying in mines, weaving in looms
Poring on scripts, 
Their sweat, dirt, tears, love spoke of honest rights 
through flourishing kingdoms, lost civilizations,
past communist rule, down capitalist hypocrisy.
Their wishes survive still, 
their smiles still bloom across some lush meadow, 
Their dreams cry loud past a broken hut.
Not sleeping in a forgotten land, 
Rising and fighting each day down ashes of hope.
They, the rightful owners of a kingdom called Earth!




Red Hate

She first fell in love with the hue 

when her mother's red lips

kissed her good night.

A vibrant red danced in her dreams,

spreading the warmth of a newborn sun.



She fell in love every time the crimson red 

spread across the quiet sky,

A majestic fire ball promising her a new day.

Smelling red roses her father grew

in their gardens, 

Smeared with dewdrops glistening like pearls of red.



She even painted all houses red 

in drawing sheets at school,

till her teachers laughed at her choice.

She had always looked at a rainbow searching 

for the last color of the spectrum.

Her love, her red.



Till she sat still with a stream of red 

all over her flowery dress.

Her dear color flowing in such pain,

Scattered blood, oozing through every pore,

as guns boomed and bombs descended, 

In clouds of petrified smoke.



Her painted red homes turned to rubble and stone.

She had seen devils in black in fairy tales 

But never saw it come through blood stains,

severed limbs, hurt and pain.

Now the devil had come like flying birds,

Hurling bombs through air raids,

And she now hates the red, she had so loved.

Red blood that covered her small limbs,

her innocent smile, 

gave away to death.
​





Fire

And it was just the plane 
where heaven and hell 
decided to marry again.
Just then, you robbed a flame
from the sun's eternal blaze
about to strike the heart of an ice maiden.
But beyond that plane, you caught my shadowy frame,
A passive woman lying in shame
behind the celestial maze of a monochrome haze.
And you passed the flame
To melt her shame. 
Little did you know
that flame of yours
Would raise a fire of unsung desire
Stirring the embers you thought
had died with her shame.
And you got burnt in your own
fire of hell.



​

 About the author: Saheli Mitra is a journalist, poet, author and blogger from the vibrant country India. She uses poetry primarily as a tool of protest against the patriarchal Indian society as well as against war and terrorism rocking the world today. Her first romantic novel Lost Words was internationally launched in 2014. Her verses have featured in several national and international literary journals like Yellow Chair Review, Piker Press USA, Tuck Magazine, Learning and creativity, Du-Kool, Taj Mahal Review, Red Balloon Anthology and many more. She runs a blog on women issues called allabouteve.

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