The Art of Water

You stood

Drawing ingenious maps

On your busy nails,

Glancing like a woman,

Real, heavy, tormenting,

Under the innocent street-lights

October’s prancing moon


Sweet-snake’s wind blowing

From another North, gathers

In patient-doctor waiting,

No need for another philosophy,

No need for Drake’s voyage now,

Storm’s ugly child-bite

Knows no houseless mothers.

Why have you disowned me?

Even without a sweat!

Waves retreat after

Every sincere strike,

Snails know

The art of water,

Only before the moon

Or magic of puberty?

Kousik Adhikari

About Ijagun Poetry Journal

Ijagun Poetry Journal is a quarterly journal that provides a platform from which we can tell our own stories in the authenticity of their multiplicity through the poetic medium. We don’t want to hear these stories from our master “griots” alone; we want to hear from those mastering their art, too. Hence, we aim at publishing new and emerging poets. We also welcome the works of established poets in order to encourage the poetic genius of those mastering poetic art. We prize original works that conform to, break or reinvent conventions. Again, we accept reviews and critical essays on poetry. We also accept powerful art works and photographs that make us appreciate the "poetry" in everything.
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