{"id":5782,"date":"2025-10-12T20:33:56","date_gmt":"2025-10-12T20:33:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/?page_id=5782"},"modified":"2025-10-12T20:35:14","modified_gmt":"2025-10-12T20:35:14","slug":"three-poems-by-gopal-lahiri","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/three-poems-by-gopal-lahiri\/","title":{"rendered":"Three Poems By Gopal Lahiri"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Three Poems By Gopal Lahiri<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Blue Hour<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There is another world inside this one.<\/p>\n

Grandma\u2019s natural neem wood comb\u00a0<\/p>\n

smells hair oil, smells skin of the scalp,<\/p>\n

memories of growing into the soul exist\u00a0<\/p>\n

now beyond the four broken brick walls.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I see as if my grandma stands its ground when<\/p>\n

something happens, throws seeds to the pigeons<\/p>\n

gather at the dark corner of the roof,<\/p>\n

The morning is fragile enough to see<\/p>\n

the time bending in her weak hands.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The coconut tree near the wooden gate gives<\/p>\n

an anxious look while the tiled roof receives<\/p>\n

radio waves of passenger crows late call,\u00a0<\/p>\n

the white saree with black border records<\/p>\n

the blue hour time every summer day.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Possibly something no one meant to see,<\/p>\n

comb\u2019s teeth pulling through white hair<\/p>\n

to untangle, to decorate her stylish look,<\/p>\n

yet the easterly wind comes to dishevel it,<\/p>\n

never refill the magical moments.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

@gopallahiri<\/p>\n

\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Surreal Night<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tonight, there will be no sleep for me,<\/p>\n

no words but the memories fall from the leaps<\/p>\n

of night and capture the strong wind,<\/p>\n

a star drops at the corner of the eastern side<\/p>\n

\u00a0of the balcony,\u00a0<\/p>\n

with it comes a clump of meteoric dust.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A cactus bush grows on my hand, a needle<\/p>\n

sprouts on my skin.<\/p>\n

The sky is now a bottomless sieve and an estuary\u00a0<\/p>\n

forms near the front gate,<\/p>\n

high tides pull back my blanket and fishermen<\/p>\n

leaning on my bed collecting<\/p>\n

the shopping bags of wishes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve always here under the roof at life\u2019s beginning,<\/p>\n

from the heaps of rubble<\/p>\n

year by year I gather your images,<\/p>\n

observing at these things\u00a0<\/p>\n

moving in your roving eyes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

@gopallahiri<\/p>\n

\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026,,,,,\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Ancient Storytellers<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walking along the windy forest path I do not<\/p>\n

look back on anything.<\/p>\n

The sleepy mist and the scent of the rock soil<\/p>\n

above the wooden turf sip weak sun<\/p>\n

The narrow path is deeply stippled with humming<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

silence of the teak and bamboo trees<\/p>\n

and still up there<\/p>\n

two skipping frogs stare at me and<\/p>\n

I look hard at their wet eyes<\/p>\n

searching for their desire to stand erect.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Uphill I knock at the wooden door of<\/p>\n

the derelict temple,<\/p>\n

a few bees still circle around the abandoned<\/p>\n

beehive and engage with darkness<\/p>\n

and migration in stillness.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

On the temple top, alexandrine parakeet<\/p>\n

and jungle fowl<\/p>\n

swallow history and scream like the<\/p>\n

ancient storytellers,<\/p>\n

the grey afternoon absorbs all metaphors.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Rajpipla hill<\/em> does not see anything,<\/p>\n

It collects only animal pawprints,<\/p>\n

broken nests and incomplete footmarks<\/p>\n

I lie down on the grass and then stand up,<\/p>\n

start my silent walk all over again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

*Rajpipla Hill is in Gujarat state of India.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

@gopallahiri<\/p>\n

\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Short Bio:<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Gopal Lahiri<\/strong>\u00a0is a bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer and translator with 32 books<\/strong> published, including eight\u00a0solo\/jointly edited books.\u00a0His poetry and prose are published across more than one hundred fifty journals and anthologies globally.\u00a0His poems are translated in 18 languages and published in 16 countries.\u00a0He has been nominated for\u00a0Pushcart Prize<\/strong>\u00a0for poetry in 2021. He has been conferred\u00a0First Jayanta Mahapatra National Award on literature in 2024<\/strong>\u00a0for his significant contribution in Indian English Writing. His collection of poems\u00a0\u2018Alleys are Filled with Future Alphabets.\u2019<\/strong>\u00a0has received\u00a0Pan Asian<\/strong>\u00a0<\/strong>Ukiyoto awards<\/strong>. His Selected Poems<\/strong> was published from CLASSIX,\u00a0 New Delhi recently.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Three Poems By Gopal Lahiri \u00a0 Blue Hour \u00a0 There is another world inside this one. Grandma\u2019s natural neem wood comb\u00a0 smells hair oil, smells skin of the scalp, memories of growing into the soul exist\u00a0 now beyond the four broken brick walls. \u00a0 I see as if my grandma stands its ground when something […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"elementor_header_footer","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5782","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nThree Poems By Gopal Lahiri - Afflatus Creations<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"There is another world inside this one.Grandma\u2019s natural neem wood comb smells hair oil, smells skin of the scalp,memories of growing into\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/three-poems-by-gopal-lahiri\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Three Poems By Gopal Lahiri - 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