The corpse lied untouched
In the crepuscular light,
her shadow enkindled.
Her kins stood panic-stricken.
Her fidelity was being questioned.
It was time now for the sun to set.
The birds were finding their way.
Migrating
Also, suffering.
And the darkness was about descending like everyday;
The shadows seemed to be taking over the grimaced faces
But she, however,
Was trying to resurrect her soul.
This was the epitome of her infatuation.
But she had always been an Ailurophile,
Always.
Mahima Gupta
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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 