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Pranab Ghosh is a journalist, poet, author and translator. He has three published books to his credit. Air and Age (co-author; published from Kolkata), Soul Searching and Other Poems (first solo book of poems, published from Toronto) and Bougainvillea And Other Stories, a book of short stories in English, translated from the Bengali original. His poems have been published in Tuck Magazine, Harbinger Asylum, Visual Verse, Literature Studio Review, Scarlet Leaf Review, Leaves of Ink, Weasel Press, Dissident Voice and Hans India among others. He is married and at present is staying in Vijayawada, India. Secret DesireTrees sway as if in Secret desire; she Tosses in the bed, Body burning; roiling Blood galloping In the vein. Deep Hot breath scorching The nostrils. Heart Pumping fast. Melody of the night. Nocturnal birds Flying across the Horizon, Alone she Succumbs to sleep Hand clutching the Breast; a deep sigh That uprooted the Swaying trees of desire, Escapes unheard. Smiling FaceLike butterflies over the Sunflower, like a white Beam of sunrays reflected In the stilly ocean… Your smile eclipses The mid-day sun. The rows of white teeth, The curves at the corner Of your lips, your nose Moistened by the Glowing noon heat – all Paint a picture of absolute Nothingness, a void Unsurmountable to me, As if a dream-broken sleep Creeping down the Crevices of the night Yearning to be with The morrow, like a butterfly Desiring to reach the stars. You are so near, yet so far Away from my being, My sensibility stirred I wait for the bones To crack and rain moisten The dry crumbs of loose Earth flying in the air. To dust when I shall Return, I will pray For your presence In another earth, where There will be no butterflies To rival your smiling face. Love’s Replacement: Not Available! Woman: Do you know who he was?
Do you know What he looked Like? Do you know What he loved? Do you know How he loved? Do you know His touch His embrace His cravings His desire His lust His fulfillment…? Do you know? Do you know? Man: Why should I? Girl: Love’s lost… Love’s found…? Man: Why compare? … Why expect…? Replacements, not available!
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