Let’s not extend it to an ‘end’; your lips, thirty two barricades for my fleet
I once had whiskeys of your sigh, I had laughed off the ice
Beyond the border, two hundred lovers in order
Your desire for the garment martyred mine, my gun shot your soul thrice
Now, as you speak, glimpses of a ruined history shows
Dylan knew before I was born, wars with age eventually die
When two chords strung in a democratic guitar sound diplomatic & high
Last solitude, to think of my coffin beneath your hair; how fashion hides
Face isn’t a revolution, it revolts against its own rebellions
You won lands but you lost the war; you couldn’t sleep on my side
Red was vermilion once, black was where it would flow
Out of those brave-hearts, my proud sand won’t show
So will not the tomb where bones & bullets once made love
Etch it together; my tenure be your posture, measured from the ground.
About the work:
This work, quite comic in its expressions, focusses on the futility of war and the blind patriotism revolving around it in this present world.
Born on 1988 in a small town of Silchar, Assam, India. Daipayan Nair is freelance writer/columnist, poet, fiction writer and essayist. His works have been published in a lot of printed anthologies and online poetry journals like The Poetry Breakfast, The Galway Review, Tuck Magazine, 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree Blog etc. He was recently awarded The Reuel International Poetry Prize 2016. His works have been translated in quite a few languages. He has also got a book to his name. His first collection of poems is named ‘The Frost’ which was released in 2015. His recent publication is a co-authored anthology of poems titled ‘THE VIRTUAL REALITY’ which was released at the end of 2016. Currently he is working on his upcoming project, a detailed poetry book on the new poetry form ‘Tideling’ titled ‘Parallelism’ to be published by the end of 2017.
