Gopal Lahiri


The oil drop in the puddle shines, the city lights up

street posts one by one

the lonely woman sews smiles on her canvas

landscapes blur, criss-cross, breaking-

rusted window frames count years in silence.


The brush strokes say a lot,

free of poetic trickery and complexities-

one line is more, one word the less

makes a little picture infused

with magic rhythm and belief to stretch.


The soft ache and the red mushroom

draw sketches with liquid lines.

to go back, to feel everything once more

streets move with slow paces

the letters that arrive, can be read between the lines.


*Shodo is the Japanese art of calligraphy that’s created with brush

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