People ask for meaning

I don’t know what it is!

Meaning is the last retreat

That philosophers smell even after

A stuffing lunch

It’s the last wagon

Carrying a pregnant woman

For early metamorphosis

And delayed whimpers

I generally do not care

For pregnant woman or meaning either

For me Sunday is always

Sun day and Monday is perhaps

Moon day, yet to be rotten

Rain always a running river

And giirrrl, a jarring sound

Catch hold of throat

Like a bait, impossible to utter

Nor you can swallow it harmlessly,

While the wind whacking

The remaining clouds day by day

You flutter like a new-born butterfly

Let me smell.

I stand on the street where none dares to stop

And certainly no meaning

For my early cognizance.

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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