Contributor: Pranab Ghosh

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The gasp. The throb.
The ‘sad satiety’,
The pulsating age.
The end and
The beginning.

The river that had
Dried up. The mind
That had lost its way,
The body that was hungry.
The desire that ran amok.

The serpentine entrance
And the exit. Lust coiling around
The spine like a snake that
Has lost its venom and yet
Longed to bite, afraid of death.

The spirit devoured, the
Feelings betrayed, love
Held for a ransom, for a
Necessity unfulfilled,
Chained to an existence
That didn’t mean anything
To the lovers, only time
Manipulated for a cause
That was neither selfless
Nor humane, just bondage
Strengthened by the flesh
That craves for fulfillment
Of earthly pangs, degenerating
Into a soulless pleasure.

Love lies in chains;
Soul trapped and
Mind fluttering for
An escape route.

Sighs,
Throbs,
Gasps
Ejaculation
Exhaustion
Seed
Creation
Womb

And
Absolute
Vacuum!

An incomplete nothingness
A circle vicious, craving
For completion.


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Pranab Ghosh is a journalist and poet. His poems have been published in several international magazines. His second book of poems Soul Searching and other Poems was published by a Toronto-based publishing house.

Contributor: Pranab Ghosh

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The darkness all around.
The benches, the cool
Evening air, the seated
Figures hugging each
Other’s soul and feeling
An unworldly comfort.

The dim light adding
To the darkness around;
The pangs, the sighs of the
Shadowy figures, the
Agony of being close to
Each other and the ecstasy,
Created by the illusion
That time indeed can
Stand still in the shade
Of the lonely casuarinas
Planted by the walkways
At equal distance, creating
A net of secrecy, underneath,
By the side and behind,
Where they lock lips
And forget the pangs
Of fleeting time that
Separates their souls
And their bodies, as they
Long for the park, which
They turn into their homes,
Without the limiting walls, and
The trees, as their nets,
To hide themselves from
The jealous stare of the
Civilization, where they can
Return, evening after evening
To find solace to their bruised
Existence that struggles to
Survive in the slowed-down
World, where prices, bills, taxes
Rise higher than the tallest
Building in the city, two blocks
Away and opposite to their
Lovely open-air studio apartment!


- - -
Pranab Ghosh is a journalist and poet. His poems have been published in several international magazines. His second book of poems Soul Searching and other Poems was published by a Toronto-based publishing house.

Contributor: Pranab Ghosh

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Is it a pretension
Or a confession?

Is it a soliloquy
Or a dialogue
Spoken under
The breath?

Is it spoken
At all?

The unspoken love;
The subdued desire;
The parting touch;
The spoken words-
The offer and the
Rejection…

Is this poetry?


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Pranab Ghosh is a journalist, blogger and poet. His poems have appeared in Dissident Voice, Scarlet Leaf Review, Tuck Magazine, Hans India, Literature Studio Review and this magazine among others.

Contributor: Pranab Ghosh

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The water trembles
holding the reflection
of the morning sun.
A street urchin throws
a stone at the sun,
the ripples reach
the shore.

There is a woman washing
clothes on the bank.
She bathes there everyday
sharing space with the sun.

In the evening the moon
replaces the sun and
the silver water stands
still reflecting the voices
of the local belles who
gather on the bank
bathing in the cool breeze.
Their laughter creates
ripples in the water
that dissolves in
the middle.

The tank lies still
through the night
listening to the crickets
and reflecting the
flying bats silhouetted
against the sinking moon.
The local belles then
dream of their lovers.

Water whispers in their ears.


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Pranab Ghosh is a journalist, blogger and poet. He has coauthored Air & Age, a book of poems. His poems have been accepted in Tuck Magazine, Scarlet Leaf, Literature Studio Review etc.