The doctors hate me
Though I become quite a frequenter
At their mad-cap nursery
Where this ancient sages
Sit at their shrine, lures, gazes, fumes.
They clarify the naughty children of earth
The knowledge of all riddles
That they seem to know from their magic books
Enchanting pill and sacred scissors dancing
The pupils dazzled at the shining steel
Still to know how the world becomes happy
With shining dust of moon
How the mist becomes a sailing boat
On ocean of wind
Floats and stops at night’s inviting shore
The world, the longest disease
Is its own magic pills
Only if one knows how to sail again.
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.
Ijagun Poetry Journal 