Murmur

by Ananya S. Guha / April 7th, 2019

The murmur inside
outside is warm
the murmur is unceasing
I am spun by it’s loquacity
its wavering tail tapers into
a signature of unceasing
murmur, I take the tapering tail
look outside, read papers and
see dead signs of politics.
We can’t forget Pulwama
how can we, as soldiers die
like cattle, tethered to a storm
the murmur is unceasing
A voice raises: War?
We murmur hatred
We murmur war
We murmur truce
We hate, they hate
Us and them whisper
We can go nuclear
even as millions starve
millions remain pot holed
A constant murmur deadens me into
a rat hole.

Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India, where he was born and brought up. He has been writing and publishing his poetry for the last forty years. His poetry has been published in both electronic and print formats such as: Indian Literature, Other Voices, Osprey Journal, Glasgow Review, The Literary Nest, Up The Staircase, Asia Writes, Art Arena, Praxis Online, Muse India, Your One Phone Call, In Between Hangovers, The Peeking Cat Magazine, Post Colonial Text among others. He has also written widely on educational and social matters. He has ten collections of poetry and his poetry has been anthologized in various collections of Indian poetry in English. He holds a doctoral on the novels of William Golding. Read other articles by Ananya S..

This article was posted on Sunday, April 7th, 2019 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.