Author: poetryfest

Dedicated to the mellow, almost powerless sun of sweet springs and dreary falls.

The ghost of the sun, is a haunt, a haunt,
A specter, in the midst, of an everlasting night,
The night never takes over, not completely, filling in it’s face gaunt,
Misshapen and defeated, and taken over by soft mists of fog white.

Powerless, against the might, of the veils of the earth,
Some laden with dust, some smog, some reeking of the remains,
Of long lost reptiles, and gold, gold in worth,
Burning into besmirched skies, off mountains and plains.

The ghost of the sun haunts, reduced to a mere spectacle,
A dimmed kite, a mere trinket, not a ray touching the surface,
Floating between nothingness and a shivering presence, apoplectical,
Dipping into curtains of haze, losing, or losing harder, existing subsurface.

Can be seen, but the touch doesn’t smother,
Offering no warmth, no rays, barely slivers of light,
Sending into deep melancholy, and dark places, tother,
The leaves shrinking, colorless, and the grounds drying, into a blight.

A blight of the heavens, and of the oceans, rendered grey,
And the birds, that do not know if day or night, or perpetual twilight,
Burdens upon burdens, stones upon stones, down they weigh,
Upon the skies, and, the sun a haunt, in a perpetual night

I want you to leave the skillet stewing
and listen to the poem I am holding

you may bring yours after you finish
squashing sheets and steaming shirts

our pact need to be revised off and on
ironing words too is a domesticity,

to go lyrical with impulsive kisses
inside kitchen or a serenade on taps,

not crammed with ingredients your
recipe; knead fingers, mope hands

over a rattling kettle and a toaster
rinse cups and towel their dampness

by the time the taste eludes palettes
embracing in front of a burning hob.

I always catch myself thinking of you
My tears caught up in the one thing i could never have.
I pushed and found any excuse to lose you All because I couldn’t accept
who I was with you
My hands stained with red from eating the same berries you would pick and
send pictures of

Everything i do is a reminder of you.
I can’t listen to my music anymore
Now all the tunes have to be about you.
From one tale to the next I guess this is ours.
Every late night call i have just reminds me of the calls we had
Each giggle and laugh
Just replay in my head
Wondering why I couldn’t love you instead.

Moving on is lie
I’d hoped by now I would’ve
But the truth is easier to run away from then to face.
I’ll find any excuse to text you and then erase the words and close the
app.
But at my finger tips all I can think about is you.
And that makes me blue.

Things were over
like a snap of my fingers.

I felt like a flower bed
carefully curated
next to a grassy yard,
overgrown and needing a cut,
but the lawn mower,
instead of trimming the too long grass
ran over the beauty
of yellow, red, and blues,
textures fuzzy and fluid,
whacked down without remorse.

But with a wry smile,
by you.

Prior however to the flowers being killed,
promptly every week,
They were cultivated with the most care.
they were watered and weeded,
they were even talked too,
so was the massacre some kind of mistake,
or was it premeditated?

And then I remember the wry smile.

Either way the why doesn’t matter
he decided to chop down our flowers,
and despite me being left
sitting in the remains
of chopped petals and crushed stems,

I got up,
and went to the grass adjacent,
that had been left
to grow tall with weeds,
and I slowly, with care,
began the long journey
of recultivating my own field.

Today I am mud
Slow moving stain of a soul
Waiting to dry out

1. Pine tar, peppermint,
old smoke, and new sweat, your scent
intoxicating

2. Arm over my chest
as you hit the brakes and curse
sweet seatbelt lover

3. Spends tip money on
disposable cameras
fills them in hours

4. Smile that seems to shout
here I am upturned and wide
let me change your life

5. Takes dictionary
sketches us under lovers,
meaning on his face

6. Calls himself painter
calls himself work in progress
calls us masterpiece

7. Tells me to do it
his hand on back a promise
Is love just belief?

Maybe one day I’ll be able to stop writing
about you,
And my inky blood will stop pouring out
onto each and every page, clotting
like bursts of pain, seeping out into the Silence
of this world.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to stop writing
about you,
perhaps your name, an imperative, will soften its edge
Fading from the lights it once glimmered in.

All is fair in love and poetry
A beautiful fantasy
From my heart
To your soul
It’s my art
Makes me full

What can I give you, dear?
When you are not near
Asked for silence
So I gave it
Haven’t seen you since
You broke it

My heart is yours
A melody strummed from its cords
It sings for you
Can you hear?
It’s turning blue
Needs your touch, dear

Dying, turning grey
Come home I pray
Only you can heal it now
I only ask for your presence
You can save your vow
Bless me with your cadence

Touch me darling
Heart is starving
It craves you
Hold me
Till the sky is baby blue
I weep as I watch you flee

Like a bird set free
Come home if you need
I’m here for you
With my love in my hand
If you want me too
I’ll be your best friend

I
I loved
I loved you
I loved you since
I loved you since my first
I loved you since my first cry.
I loved you since my first
I loved you since
I loved you
I loved
I
You
You were
You were the force
You were the force that made
You were the force that made me
You were the force that made me human.
You were the force that made me
You were the force that made
You were the force
You were
You
When
When I
When I go
When I go know
When I go know I
When I go know I could
When I go know I could not
When I go know I could not go
When I go know I could not go on
When I go know I could not go on without
When I go know I could not go on without you.
When I go know I could not go on without
When I go know I could not go on
When I go know I could not
When I go know I could
When I go know I
When I go know
When I go
When I
When

Anjali A. Sarkar
July 18, 2025

Occupy my heart.
Joys of flowery summers.
Your smile are blooming.
占据我心吧，
繁花盛夏的喜悦。
你绽放笑颜。

Breeze of summer blows
Over your gown of flowers.
Lake shines, golden glow.
夏的风拂过
你点缀繁花的裙
湖水跃着金

In midsummers nights
You are my intrusive thought
Starry eyes of my love
在仲夏良夜
我止不住想念你
爱人的明眸

Spring water stirs tea
Blooming flowers of orchid
would you think of me
春泉煎新茶
正开放的是兰花
你会想我吗

Depressing morning.
Birds sing over cloudy sky.
Bring words of autumn.
郁郁的清晨。
鸟吟在阴云天际。
携秋的私语。

Busy bus platform.
Noisy whispers and whistles.
Search your silhouette.
繁忙的站台。
低语与鸣笛喧嚣。
寻你的身影。

I think of your eyes.
Storm outside the glass window.
Turns into silence.
想到你的眼。
玻璃窗外的风暴。
便转入宁静。

Your long silk-like hair.
My only desire, glows when
Jacaranda falls.
你如丝秀发。
我所独求，生辉在
蓝花飘落时。
Gently shake in breeze.
Pop from lush green leaves, a branch
Of purple flowers.
微风里轻摇。
繁茂绿荫里钻出。
一枝条紫花。

Stormy night, chilly
Morning. Think of your cruelty
That you don’t love me.
雷雨夜，风凉
的早晨。你不爱我，
想来真残酷。

Wind of summer blows,
A heart aches for once and more,
Birds sing in the heat.
夏的风吹起。
一颗心几次哀痛。
鸟鸣热风里。

the wet rainy day，
cars pass through slippery road,
Sounds of splash noises.
阴雨连绵日，
车流驶过湿马路，
泼剌噪声响。