|| A CLOUD SHAPED LIKE SHEEP. ||

Nilesh Mondal

Someone knocked on my door twice, then set it on fire with a cinder
In forests little molehills turn into pyres with a cinder.

The lizards in my room chew on their own tails at dawn
At night they sit in a circle and conspire with a cinder.

I've left my door open on some nights waiting for a hurricane
Only a breeze slithered in and called me a liar about a cinder.

What do I make of empty verses on scraps of torn letterheads?
I swear I didn't threaten the escort on hire with a cinder.

Loving you would be a challenge you had promised me always
But you didn't know about my corrupt desire with a cinder.

Maybe I'm making you uncomfortable under your skin, darling
Maybe Nilesh is no different than barbed wires, and a cinder.

 

NILESH MONDAL is an undergraduate in engineering who believes in the power of expression that poetry offers, talks to himself at times, and goes through life one day at a time. He likes ghazals because they remind him of his childhood mornings spent listening to records of Begum Akhtar and Jagjit Singh that his mother fondly collected.