June 25, 2007 at 8:55 am 8 comments

Acid, so unlike my heart.
Movements unintended,
Unguided by thought;
Nurtured by a void I know not.

If only angels would rise from birth,
If goodness was all that descended,
An infant soaked so
In putrid blood, like Him, would glow.

If laughter was always pure mirth,
Earth would be heaven.
How untrue it seems —
An angel a demon redeems.

She tears tranquility apart.
Flickering. Serpentine shifts
In face, colour, smell, mood —
Strike like lighting with her ominous hood.

Acid, lightning — they burn,
Spewing black ash in return.
Incoherence ventures to bring meaning back.
All that is —
is the ruins of my savage attack.

The ash can only be softened by tears.
Repentance washes it away.
I assure myself, I allay my fears . . .
From the flower I stay away.

For the flower that bloomed never returns.
She dies every time
The venom spews, the acid burns.

© Ritwik Banerjee

Creative Commons License

Tongue by
Ritwik Banerjee is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

Entry filed under: life, literature, perspective, Poetry.

Storm: Karamazov M K Gandhi and “Hind Swaraj”

8 Comments Add your own

  • 1. bcbeneke  |  June 26, 2007 at 6:09 pm

    you are a much tighter poet than I am. I simply write what comes out, and that’s that. Your work looks like it’s been crafted, and worked on until it’s as technically sound as it is emotionally in tune.

    I write with 90% emotion, 5% talent, and 5% hope.

  • 2. bcbeneke  |  June 26, 2007 at 6:10 pm

    That is meant in a good way. I have few technical skills. I just go with my heart. Almost everything you read is a 1st or 2nd draft.

  • 3. arachnid  |  June 26, 2007 at 6:38 pm

    Thank you for the comment. This poem, by the way, was the first draft. I believe that if an emotion is expressed with absolute honesty, it is bound to become beautiful. Generally, what happens with me is that I am seldom satisfied with a words …. because emotions are subtler than words … that is why I end up searching my soul for hours sometimes for the right word.

  • 4. harmonie22  |  July 1, 2007 at 9:37 pm

    What a brilliant poem. You’re pretty good. I write poetry too, and I agree sometimes my best work is what just flows out into a first draft. Keep em coming!

  • 5. shy  |  July 3, 2007 at 9:27 am

    to a lovers note,
    i bid just awe,
    to my lovers note
    I am beyond beatific, far!

  • 6. silentdreams  |  July 9, 2007 at 1:40 pm

    Your poetry is rather impactful. It paints a vivid picture and shares my own thoughts and emotions. I too have been tormented by this sense of salvation. Tormented by thoughts of angels and demons. Sometimes I get so upset the words come out in jumbled messes, but writing them down is all that stops the pain. Thank you for sharing with us. I enjoyed your message.


  • 7. Ritika  |  September 16, 2007 at 11:21 am

    What you wrote is something very obvious here..but why you wrote it u don’t seem to hide..but then did u get peace after writing this……did that feeling leave you….? my curiousity makes me question……

    Reply: Why should I hide the reason? That would defeat the purpose of writing it. The feeling will never leave me. Because, as I say, my repentance is helpless. Once beauty is destroyed, it cannot be brought back to life. Once a wrathful word escapes you, no matter what you do, you cannot retract their effects.


  • 8. Rye..  |  August 25, 2008 at 9:37 am

    I loved this dada.. 🙂


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