by Tapabrata Mukherjee
God never existed anywhere until they forced.
There’s also a question or confusion over the fact of whether it is a He or She.
It may be something undetermined as well, but humans took either right
or the wrong route, which later was determined as his route.
On this path, people gasped, and later drooled.
More like a lone wolf the sound of gasping was slow, meek, and
almost unnoticeable. All they could do was howl.
Howl – howl – howl… until there’s a sign of a scary,
lost, night bird within the dense darkness.
Blood spilled, and left a trail.
So did the spittle.
Some knew where to drive a thriving life to relish
over the blood and flesh
while some just followed to trail
to dive within the shadow under the moon.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Tapabrata Mukherjee, a Bi-lingual poet and short-story writer from West Bengal, India is fluent in both English and Bengali language. He has claimed his place among the Bengali-language translators with several of his translation works as well. Tapabrata has so far penned 10 books, including a collection of translated poems. He is a well-known name in the Bengali literary societies. The poet is mainly associated with the 21st-century Little Magazine movement, and strongly supports the views and avant-garde approaches of Little Magazine establishments across the world.
Last updated February 19, 2025