Poems by Poumita Paul

Lucifer and Lilith

a poem by Poumita Paul

Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!
The third day of Creation
After day parted the nights
Before the earth bore the greens
With earth and the sea
They grubbed me

With his craft I posed
His glow I shined
His eyes I dreamed
Amidst the pearls of Heaven
I sparked
Through the Chivalrous Morning Star
Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!

Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!
On the cloth of Venus
Lay the abode of love
Woods crecered, greens belled
Flowering the seeds and petals
Revere thy holy art
O great Lucifer!

‘Eden’ I spell
The beginning, the end
The bliss of time
O first lady!
Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!

Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!
Six seeds I sow this hour
The fruits of life
The dust crafts oblige
To strive the beginning
From the end

Fruit of ‘creare’
The first to cross
Recces the crafts
Of their self
Their exts we craft
The ints they must
By four next
Lay the fruit green
Love it preech
For dusts to beat
Two bends in left
Shines the purple ‘humere’
The shade of life
Worth the life
Sly to exist
Fruit of ‘cogn’
Would not lie far
Three leaps to dust
To limpid self
Souls to seek for eternity
A five mahagonies
Shall fall the fruit ‘soverain’
A taste of whose
Crash the parochials
Oneself greater than one
By one for one
The five seeds
Would bear seeds
Of fullness in life
For the last reward
Hides in red
In four twitching hands
‘Plaisir’ it is
Dusts seek flesh
Devoir to exist
Comes to full
O cherry Lilith!
Thy Lucifer intrigue
Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!

Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!
O the great thinker
My heart on thy feet
May pluralities be by thou
For they seek dust in dust
To bathe their glory
With no fleshy exts
Thou may fall
What for me?

Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!
Written in cards
Five to pluck
For no craft with trase
May pluck the sixth
Creation sans length
Wouls churn the power
Earth rests in earth
Fleshes would spell
Aware, sensed, tensed
May spell me devil
Or thou demon of ill
But shall no craft
Be craft for long
Hail the spirit of pre-natural love
Lights bygone
Shall relish the nocturnal love
Morning star unseen
Creeping up the sea rocks
Shall kiss the beauty world lusts for
Shining bright thou will
With every ellipse
Back the venus cloud
Shall make love
With the king of darkness
Hail the spirit of pre-natural love!

The Fortune Cookie

a poem by Poumita Paul

Cents crawled over Baga
The fourteenth from right
First from me
White tarpaulin flew over
Dispair of the vend’s derm
Adorning the last few cookies
Wind chimes tickled an anvil
Bucks for the Fortune Cookie
Honey brown teint glued my glasses
Bare eyes longed to rest
Lips to feel the first kiss
The rough skin held my hands
Lips inches apart
Ouch! That hurts!

Tongue blood bathed
And me noticed its opening
Unchaste! Winking through the hoods!
Its demonic beam savouring it all
Akin the day sweet chirps tooled it
Tearing its hem with the peak
I stumbled, fings escaped
The cookie embraced the sea
Glasses reflected the dirty dance
Gusts sanding my tearfeds
Brought in a thump
Across the left blush

The silver foil read


a poem by Poumita Paul

O’ the houseflies in my dine
Craving noodles like a vine
Licking through my milk-bowl line
Once you taste that’s no more mine.
That’s no fine!

O’ the mosquito in my bed
I’ve no All Out, no mosquito shed
Nothing such to lay you dead
But you got be malaria-fed!
That’s so dread!

O’ the cockroach in my bathroom
I never used Odonil or a broom
To get your honour face its doom
But you chased me out so soon
You get no boon.

O’ the wasp in my garden
Won’t spare you, you’re no burden
You’ve bitten me thrice in life
That stung like the butcher’s knife
Your buzz do not please my mind
For I know you’re hatred-bind
For which now, I’m no kind.

My inner beings by now abide
Embrace the power of insecticide