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
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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.
