avatarMonoreena Acharjee Majumdar

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ance, you visit to capture, You hear me, but never seem to listen…….</p><p id="c234">Hello, do you know me?! I am that century old relic By the road corner you pass everyday — Do you notice? That I call out your name That I reach out for help That I scream….. May be. Maybe not.</p><p id="010a">When night descends, Clear sky a spectacle of twinkling stars, My backyard a theatre of fire flies, I talk to the dark dark night, and Moonshine smiles at my bones,</p><p id="9cc5">But when the clouds take their bath I whisper to the sun, as promised It shines through the rain, Soothing my bones…… Yeoubi.</p><blockquote id="1d5f"><p><b>Author’s Note</b>: A century old building at the corner of the city is barely holding on against the vagaries of life. But don’t think it does not have a voice because it cannot speak. And who else than a poet to place words in a brick’s lips?!</p></blockquote><p id="e5a5">The third poem for the poetry series will be titled: <b>IX/XI — That Fall.</b></p><p id="910f">Thank you <a href="undefined">Indubala Kachhawa</a> for onboarding me for Paper Poetry Poetry Series.</p><p id="77f4">Thank you <a href="undefined">Suntonu Bhadra</a> <a href="undefined">Carolyn Hastings</a> for this wonderful place for creative manifestation here in Paper Poetry.</p><p id="9a95"><b>Know my gratitude for visiting, engaging and encouraging !</b></p><p id="b1a9">Find the first installment of Poetry Series here:</p>

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<div id="f9d8" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/of-flies-and-butterflies-a3e514b4ce39"> <div> <div> <h2>Of Flies and Butterflies</h2> <div><h3>Yeoubi- Sun Shining Through Rain</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*-6F3s9f1Ff8MbQDI_Ga3ZQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="ea08" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/a-loving-farewell-to-gunnen-and-warm-welcome-to-yeoubi-f52422eb25e8"> <div> <div> <h2>A Loving Farewell to ‘Gunnen’ and Warm Welcome to ‘Yeoubi’</h2> <div><h3>Come, and enjoy one more beautiful series with us!</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*DXBDJyyDjQQ7yfMdCGqfbw.png)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="661c"><b>Editorial Note</b>: To know more about Poetry Series and to particiapte in the same, <a href="/paper-poetry/a-loving-farewell-to-gunnen-and-warm-welcome-to-yeoubi-f52422eb25e8">click here.</a></p></article></body>

Poetry Series at Paper Poetry

Moonshine Smiles at My Bones

Yeoubi — Sun Shining Through Rain

Graphite sketch and Canva design by Monoreena

“If her walls could talk they might recount the stories of generations of families, of prayers she has heard, of joys she has shared, and somber times of sorrow, grief, and loss.” ― Arlene Stafford Wilson

Death has arrived many times Only to walk away in shame.

The last storm took away That coconut tree Uprooted, banging on the Already cracked north-west wall — That night gouged out my skin and flesh, They thought it was an earthquake.

The east entwined in the root mesh growing from the Banyan, encircling me like fried noodles, Breathes in the symbiosis,

Time a powerful stranger visits to survey, I stand still on the waves of time, knowing the trees rowed in-front know me, The shrubs behind will always recognize.

Stories of the years reverberate within the walls, Laughter, cries, shrieks, murmur All cooked in time to produce a new sonance, you visit to capture, You hear me, but never seem to listen…….

Hello, do you know me?! I am that century old relic By the road corner you pass everyday — Do you notice? That I call out your name That I reach out for help That I scream….. May be. Maybe not.

When night descends, Clear sky a spectacle of twinkling stars, My backyard a theatre of fire flies, I talk to the dark dark night, and Moonshine smiles at my bones,

But when the clouds take their bath I whisper to the sun, as promised It shines through the rain, Soothing my bones…… Yeoubi.

Author’s Note: A century old building at the corner of the city is barely holding on against the vagaries of life. But don’t think it does not have a voice because it cannot speak. And who else than a poet to place words in a brick’s lips?!

The third poem for the poetry series will be titled: IX/XI — That Fall.

Thank you Indubala Kachhawa for onboarding me for Paper Poetry Poetry Series.

Thank you Suntonu Bhadra Carolyn Hastings for this wonderful place for creative manifestation here in Paper Poetry.

Know my gratitude for visiting, engaging and encouraging !

Find the first installment of Poetry Series here:

Editorial Note: To know more about Poetry Series and to particiapte in the same, click here.

Poetry
Poetry Series
Art
Imagination
Yeoubi
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