Groundbreaking

He is a thief
of unparalleled skill
stole the ground beneath my feet
and hasn't returned it still.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

In... Out...

I'm NOT angry,
I'm only lost
both in my laughter
and in my silence,
removed from this place inside me
where frequencies matched,
removed from my tears
and floods and surges
removed, 

from myself.

So, I meander,
I follow breadcrumbs
only to be eaten
by the crows.
I saunter,
with my chin up,
into the mouth of the beast
and wail
when it shuts it's teeth.

My compass magnetised
my reasoning traumatised
and through my days
I wander,
I ponder,
and then I wonder
what's gotten under my feet
what's gotten into me
that's chewing,
it's digging, it's clawing
and I'm caving, in.

Bargaining peace,
with the
click click of pens,
tick tock of clocks,
the 'are you okays',
'why can't you stays',
and 'things aren't the sames'.

But I sustain
I move, I push, I shove
and it never seems enough
but I do, and it's tough
but I do...

© Utsa Seth, 2019

The Sailor

It's those small spaces
between our feet and our fingers
that are filled with oceans
the waves,
always take you away.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Only Enlightenment

My problem is like
a lightning struck sky
filled with heavy rain clouds.
Illuminated
but unsolved.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Perfect Pace

My lethargy starts off transparent,
hidden and invisible,
but with every poke,
every persistent peek
it begins to possess a prominence
that is impossible to ignore.
Over time it portrays 
its true colors
staining my personality
with a stubborn permanence.
With every push
it only pulls me in deeper
until it peaks, prevails,
it triumphs the periphery
and penetrates the core.
No matter is pressing enough
to pursue,
so I place myself
in a comfortable position
and press play
because sometimes
that's okay.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

Knock Knock

Do you hear it?
a soft pounding
a dubious belabouring
at your door?

It was expected to be
and behind the door
is what you want to see
so obviously,
you won't lie to me
but you are lying
to yourself.

Fear doesn't knock at doors
it knocks at the brain
but brains can be treated.

It is history
which knocks today
and the fragile heart
is only broken
by the hammering
of its own expectations.

Pandora's box
doesn't open
and it keeps the hope in,
but I have nothing
to keep the suffering out
and hearts, cheated
can not be treated,
so don't open that door.

© Utsa Seth, 2019

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

Stars

They talk to me,

the stars.

A guide, 

a prophet just for me.

In a sparkling utterance

they send their messages,

a flurry of incessant blinking

bright, dim, bright,

never tiring, 

never forgetting.

When the sun is bright 

or the clouds show their might

I know they are there 

the stars,

blinking bright, dim, bright

talking, guiding

always.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Banquet of Life

The soft fluffy dome above,
a protection.
The tall, royal mountains,
are kings.
The flora and fauna,
a feast.
We, we are just visitors,
to the banquet of life.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Grey

Grey is beautiful.
Nondescript yet stark
it is solid,
a vague solid.
Its beauty lies in its secret
one, which can not be told
only found.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Washed Out

Timing.
so crucial
and yet so cruel.

With a storm inside,
I face the storm outside.
Brace my self against
the sheets of rain
the electric lightning
and the booming thunder
that tell me I am wrong,
erode my reasoning.

I stand,
watching
as the structures that support me
flow away with the mud
I watch
as my senses are

overwhelmed
by the blues and the greys
overwhelmed 
by the song
and 

by the storm.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Orphan

What you take for granted

I do not have.

The warm voice and gentle hand

they wake you in the morning

they take you out to eat

they feed you, they treat you

they treat you with love, with respect

they care for you, 

they listen, don't they?

They are affectionate and kind

by default, 
they have to be.

You are blessed, I
I am not

you are lucky, 
I wasn't

your supports are strong

mine,

are dead.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Vulnerable

Once in the zero,
the one is amplified.
The one I ignored,
the one I pushed away,
the one who wins
the many ones, wins,
their existence forgets me.

In the quiet
with nothing to hide behind
the tears
always threaten to spill.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Ghost Cities

The demons tower tall
their minions
they drive the streets
the food is poisonous
the words senseless
the minds useless
use less, no?

Craving, greedy, hungry
souls they wander
ruthless, fruitless.

The air impossible to breathe
happiness impossible to feel
it's a terrible ordeal
will we ever,
ever really heal?

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Reflections

Hello, I said

to the reflection.
I was here 
passionate,
I was here
angry,
I was here,
quiet.
You were here 
with me,
and now I'm
here with you.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

The Tomorrow Hour

The ordinary clock
ticking, 
tick tock, tick tock.
My mind is held,
my body is wound

my key turned, 

to make me work.

I wait, helplessly,
for the hands to point,
to thirteen.

The mindlessness
is breaking me,
and in each rise and fall,
I only fall.
My limbs tire,
but my geared mind,
it just won't let go.

So I wait,
mechanically,
stuck in a today 

that will never end

and a tomorrow

that will never come, while the ticking,
it goes on, 
a sinister
tick tock, tick tock.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Slipping Reins

I can't calm down.

Stop,
I need time.

No, don't scream at me
I can't control it
I can't control my voice,
my words, my feeling.

They are slipping away
just out of reach
the chase, 
leaves me breathless.

I can't let them go
I need them,
I need the people
and my calm.

I can't breathe 
and they, they don't let me
and then it's gone
too far for me to catch,
leaving behind just me.

Just me,
my terror
my breathlessness
and the tears,
that won't flow.

© Utsa Seth, 2018

Acknowledgement

Sitting amidst familiar,
I feel alien.
Bright lights, lively, life
shine onto everyone
yet I feel shadowed.
A hole a gap to be filled
remains empty, 
for days
neglected, ignored
but persistent, resurfacing
again and again.
I need space to be,
but sometimes the space 
is suffocating.
Fullness feels empty
and I crave for more
for something, 
that deep breaths let in,
it fills me up,
acknowledgment.

© Utsa Seth, 2018