Shoe's Lament

I'm still size six, Its you

that's grown too big.

For a year I cradled you like

a child. Now my leather's

tattered, my sole's burnt wild.

Every step you took forward you see,

Was an inch closer to oblivion for me.

The print you and I had left on the sand,

painted the end, now close at hand.

Now sitting on this coffin like rack, my

mind cannot help wander back—

To the time when

I wasn't just another old shoe,

and meant the whole world to you.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (7/4/2012)

Time Travels (like an arrow through my flesh)

Have you been struck by time's

untimely arrow?
The irreversible reverse,shot
from its twisted bow?

The open wound is soft inside,
when it comes down to
the last grain of sand,
there is no loss
and no pride.

When the scales tip, what
is a wrinkle, and what is
a smile? I can only
wish, my clock would
wait a while.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (3/4/2012)

Sonnets are luck, one short's a fuck

Caught between

the beautifully

sad and the

sadly beautiful,

the chains of time—

hours, minutes,

seconds weave themselves

into a wrinkled tapestry

on the skin of my lifetime.

Nothing ever lasts

and time is like

ice in the sun--

Death is done.

Anirban Kapil Baishya(3/4/2012)

To all things beautiful...

To all things

beautiful,

how I wish

your shimmer

would freeze

and not flow away...

How I wish

the clock would

stop for us—

frozen. Still

in beauty

the colour

of my rage

would turn

a shade more mellow.

Yet the candle

burns and the

wax lies in a

pool of memories—

the shimmer flew by

just a flickering

black shadow, can

I have it back please?

Anirban Kapil Baishya(2/4/2012)

This is how we died

The sun came down

and hit the ground,

everything turned black

and now wer'e back—

back to how we died.

The moon rose up and

broke the cup,

spilling silver light

poisoned the night

and this is how we died.

The fire died out

and raised a doubt,

wer'e really alone,

no one on the other side

of the phone,

so that is how we died.

So the writers wrote

on a sinking boat,

their words washed away

like the memory of the day,

and that is how we died.

So that is how we died,

and no one cried,

because there was

no one left,to

mind the theft,

the theft of our lives—

because that is how

they all died.

And if you think

there's nothing worse,

than this morbidly

silly verse,

then your'e only

trying to hide,

because that is

how you died.

Anirban Kapil Baishya(2/4/2012)