Bubble Wrap

It's a ravenous hunger,
an all-consuming claw
in the tight trap 
I writhe and groan
a hunted animal,
a prey captured, ensnared
without a chase, without a chance,
I had NO CHOICE.
My voice sat on,
by the magic of 99
now 9999999999,
is small and whispers travel
but ears are shut.

Agony roars and misery engulfs
but money 
is found in the bubble
where vibrant reflections 

catch eyes
and civilization floats
on thin ice.
Brink, seemingly horizon
is advancing light speed
and it will split 

to show 
what it is made of.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Customers, to eat

The shopkeepers sit,

in an unending line

as fine dust gathers

on the affectation of wares.

A harsh drone of sunlight

makes eyes squint,

in pursuit of customers.

Lethargy seeps 

into the skin

but hunger battles,

persistent,

for lives depend 

on flower garlands.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Prisoners of Beauty

The colors, 
they warmed to red,
now they cool to blue.
Painted skies,
and shining, meandering trails
of passing time,
create
a skillful labyrinth,
a safe haven,
to host 
the prisoners of beauty.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

You

You are indescribable,
an emotion wave
a soft blue hue
that dissipates on touch,
a color, sui generis.
The silhouette
reveals a sly shimmer, 

subtle, smooth.
On entry,

it gravitates towards 
a matte, dense core
and hardens, 

it structures
as it turns into a you.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

A Singular Multitude

She looks up, gazing
her eyes travel, they move
over the specks 
of a white spray.
A whisper of multitudes
singular multitudes, 
echoes family,
in her small ears.
She drifts 
in sleep-filled lanes,
in dreamt creation.
When she looks,
she is ignorant of the distances
the enduring empty miles
between the star clusters.
She is yet to understand,
that all stars brave 
their own abyss,
illuminate their own darkness
to shine.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

The First Customer

My mind moves
the muscles opening out
like shop shutters
the clanking
of barreling, churning mystery
ricocheting off my conscience
they float, and fast, at intervals
my awareness dips in a doze
awakening only to meet
the first customer.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

The Knowing Quiet

Minds threaded together
they form a circle
where anger flies
pure and raw,
where shouting echoes off
the arena walls
a crescendo builds.
I war with her
brandishing profanities and hurt
she retaliates and blocks
her walls up and strong
its brick on brick
in here,
but in the stands 
there sits a lone figure
shrouded in tranquility
its an unnerving stillness
from the intellect,
the eye of the storm.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Symphony ft.Love

I know those features
they define the symphony
I hear in the pandemonium
of accusations and salt water
when deposits 
barricade my sleep.
As the melody solidifies
into a shoulder
I rest, letting it all drain out,
drop by drop
the pillow, damp with sadness
warms to the strains 
of the mellow lullaby
that creates a cocoon
where I now lay
the flames radiating 
heartfelt love.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Warm Nights

We sit, silent
enveloped in the arms of Nyx.
She's warm today
and her stars shine
illuminating the finer lines 
of life.
There are no words
to fill up the space
but we
comprehend the quiet.
So when a tear 
meekly rolls down her cheek
I don't speak 
but I smile.
Thoughts move along 
conveyor belts in my head
and the lamp post, bright
causes the tear to glisten
as I listen
to its tiny reflections
on her face.

Vision-ary

With the help of the light
that you emanate,
your blood and muscle 

turned glass,
and I a visionary.

Your topography,

as evident as a tree's,

has been studied diligently,

alike to the carefully painted strokes

of a practiced perfectionist.

The soil you grow on,

fertile today,
is profiled 

by sweat filled days,

characterized,

by the rich ebony of mud, 

that supports.

Nurtured, cultured

from a miniscule seed,

by branch and leaf 

you have grown.

Still, 

a past frame lingers.

Carried in the faint smell of hardwork

on your persona

and in the story

a soil epic,

demons digested

frustrations fermented

and malice manured

to productive compost.

You bear sweet fruit,

enchanting, 

yet no magic was found in its sugar

only traces

of wine like aging,

and dedicated parentage.

Years slip by,

in peering through

your glistening transparencies

before I reach

the meaningless rock,

the mere possibility,

that lay hiding

your master sculpture,

unsculpted and,

unappreciated

from the world.

Light Years Apart

Across the table
I sit at the other end
of the universe
separated by light years
of conversations never had,
times not spent together,
hearts not held together,
what we could never make well together
and i stare into the darkness
where the opacity deludes me
into thinking i knew you.
But today I space travel,
as we bond
over buttermilk.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Bewitched

In the stewing pot
love bubbles, frothing roses with 
strains of yesterday's conversation and
tinkling laughter, boiling,
mingling in the cheery company
of my own satisfactions,
my inward grins 
and childish whims. 

Eventually though,
it all boils down 
to traces of faces
lining the pensieve.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Asthachal

The sun's rays 
flatter the clouds
into a bright blush pink
that yellows, as his radiance spreads
outwards, makes me giggle
as I stare, unabashedly.

The branches of the trees
creep, inch towards the skyline
reach towards the cosmos
lazy, but loving
like soup.

The people are quiet 
on the outside
while their toes wriggling
feet tapping, fingers snapping
knuckles cracking, brains racking
suggest otherwise
to me.

So i sit at the platform
an aimless wanderer
a poet
and listen to the news
on the thought speakers, intently
watching carefully
as their trains of thought 
rattle out to new destinations.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Dear XX/XY

You are a variable

and it may be hard 

to come to terms with

but your number will come.

You will have good times, bad times

happy times, sad times

you will change.

There will be additions 

and subtractions

but your values can be infinite,

both rational and irrational

while your smile 

will go on like pi.

Sometimes your coefficients   

will make you big, sometimes small

but know that

you'll still be you

on the inside.

There may be other factors too

who will tip your equation

but don't worry,

they are always mistakes, inevitable

it is the learning that matters.

So learn,

find new angles 

of looking at boring circles

and never give up

especially when 

the problem is difficult.

And they will be

so when you lose heart

just remember

that I'll always be around

to make your life easier

a constant,

in the equation of your life.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

About her

A whirlpool, 

a collage
of color and light
that glows in 
scattered dark patches.

The swirls glitter and shimmer
they move and turn
in the fluidity of her being.
She's fickle and they twinkle
those eyes
when she laughs. 

The storm...In the end

It burns through everything
it clears out the mind
with violent flames
they burn yellow, red, blue.
They burn bright, luminous
illuminating complexity
cast out the difficulties
the flames,
they burn down everything.

Amidst the destruction
the soft, grey, black of the ash
fills the mind,
it consumes the air, polluting
the residue dark and dusty
suffocates, traps, clouds.

Eventually the dust settles
in tiny reflective particles
it floats down slowly
the rising sun
illuminates the wasteland
and the infinity of stars descend
down to the earth, come down
only to rise again.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

The Storm...

From the eyes 
like sharp glass shards
the tears flow.
In a never ending stream 
filled with despair
filled with anger, with hate
it burns through everything
it clears out the mind
with violent flames
they burn yellow, red, blue.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

True Predictions

The movements of my pen
align with the moments of thought 
like the moon with the earth 
and the sun with the stars.
The horoscope reads well 
for me today.

© Utsa Seth, 2019