The Pink Velvet Plant by Piya Chakrabarti

The Pink Velvet Plant by Piya Chakrabarti

In yester-years,

Heading in with arms stretched out,

The rubicund petals, scattered all about,

Peeping in, like a stranger strange,

Tender spring in its greatest range.

The pink velvet on our classroom floor,

The whirring breeze hoping to implore

the shoots to send'em on the rounds,

And merge with the honeyed, bourdon sounds.

The perfume of the velvet with passion fills,

Brings out the artist, and the man it kills,

Nothing of the scented drunkenness,

To sip in the cup of intemperance.

Today I saw,

The barks of the velvet are slimy grey,

The shoots slouch off with the fall of day,

The fruits are ripened, and all worn out,

That the tree is chafed, and old, and stout.

The classroom floor is mopped all day,

The acidic smell is done away,

To shoo off the intruder strange,

To welcome the season of the change.

Piya Chakrabarti is a writer, poet and visual artist, and is currently pursuing a Master degree in Pure Mathematics from Jadavpur University. Her writings and arts have been published in Ken again, a literary magazine, cyberwit's “Taj Mahal Review” and “The Harvest Of The New Millennium”, Dyuti, The Telegraph, Child Rights and You (CRY) “Anti-labour day Analysis Report”, Blood Lotus Journal, Youth Ki Awaaz,Eastlit magazine and many writings are under consideration by many journals of repute in India and abroad.

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