Inkling: (A Book of Poetry)

By Infra

Inkling is a book of poetry that talks about people.

Our days on the road, inside a cubicle or up on a rocky terrain, in comfortable beds, and unaccustomed rains. It contains remedies and raises questions.

It is a collection of poems, a collection of lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: May 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543704907

Infra

She is trained in Classical Music and Engineering. She works for an IT Firm and practices Rabindrasangeet. She lives in Calcutta and travels to the Mountains. She reads Tagore and writes about Life. This is her first poetry book.

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Copyright © 2019 by Infra.

Illustrations created by Author

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5437-0489-1

                eBook            978-1-5437-0490-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

CONTENTS

BLINKING

You

Lily McLaughlin

Mother

Happiness is a Practice

Sharmind And A Candle

I Am The Girl That Has No Face

THINKING

Hazel Power

Another Lane

Eclipse

Ignorant Fuck

My Stunning Race

Weaklings

SINKING

High Tea

Breaking Character

Get A Grip And Grow A Glow

Why

How do I save this country

Spoonfuls and Promises

FEELING

Ukulele

Yellow and Red

My 3 BHK in Bombay

Courage

Lullaby

React Or Not

DWINDLING

The Climb

Abrupt

Friend

Hope

Measure A Love By How It Survives

Red Velvet

DRIFTING

Fume

Has it got worse

The Want to be Good The Want to be Bad

Listener

Richa

Mr No Word Man

ASKING

Questions

Do you ever talk about loss

In Between

Spoonful of Red Wine

Kingdom of Void

SCRAMBLING

Home

Kashmir

Mudhouse

Room of Prayer

Time

What Would be Life

MEANING

It is no weakness

What If Today

New Year

Nine Am Human

Saviour

Stammer

LIFTING

Read Me Not

Looking for Words

Speaking of Stars

Inkling

Threadlamp

When I Turn Forty

To Maa and Dinna .

1

BLINKING

20190224_234141.jpg

You

I hold the hottest tea cup

Made out of fiery mud

At a local fair in the local park

Watch you delivering lies to our son

I do not feel the winter wind

I can’t feel the maddening buzz

Of countless crowds and mastered masks

Just watching you smile at us.

I take the longest sip that sounds like a slurp

You wonder what’s wrong with her etiquette haze

I wonder which one burns the most

And by how much.

He wants a ride on the great wheel

He eyes ice creams at a stall

He fears I’d say No but doesn’t approach you either.

Our fingers entertwine

Me and my son.

And we watch you with dried lips

Dull face and your cigar.

I can’t see manhood,I can’t tell if you’re you.

He can’t recognise this man,as much as he used to.

He misses his bed,I miss my room.

It doesn’t make sense

Our loneliness in a gene pool.

You look for words for a fresh excuse

To meet the nurse who helped me through chemo.

We look for hope in queer faces around

Keep wishing you’d turn back into your you.

The You we knew,the one we viewed

Like a tree for shade in a thick curfew.

The face of tranquil grace

Now a place of concrete

The eyes that gleamed always

Can barely look at me.

Local musicians play a folk song nearby.

An unfairly affair in a fair ground to behold,

I keep holding the cup of tea.

That now has turned cold.

Lily McLaughlin

Lily McLaughlin once told me

How important it is in life

To not finish a book

But complete it instead.

She had half a sketch done

And put down the pen,

Taken off my blindfold,

To the dismal half of a remain.

She’d serve me raw vegetables and fish,

I’d raise this intrigued head and ask why,

Then make me understand,

How important it is in life,

For heat and pressure and rigor

To cook some good food.

So when I gave my best

Or probably thought I did,