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Rajat Kumar Dalai

"A guy with love and laze, with simple deeds and words of craze."

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Rajat Kumar Dalai

#shayri

#shayri #शायरी

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Rajat Kumar Dalai

//I am a lie, long lived to be named peace
...
I dip a loathed bread of my poetry
On white milk with white faces
To remember and reconcile everyday.
By the time night knocks at my door
My body is all pain and pieces
I hesitate to let it open
But liquids have their own paths to reach
Their hosts and hustlers secretly.
...
(Full poem in caption)

©Rajat Kumar Dalai #alone

//I am a lie long lived to be named peace

There are ounces of morsels
I take down my throat in pain and distress.
Morsels of words my body was never meant for.
Morsels of hungry reluctant opportunities

#alone //I am a lie long lived to be named peace There are ounces of morsels I take down my throat in pain and distress. Morsels of words my body was never meant for. Morsels of hungry reluctant opportunities #poem

12 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

Luring Lullabies - II

When dead flowers between pages
Shall speak anecdotes of amorous acts
And my eyeballs sulk down my guilt
I shall reveal my desire to decline.
Love, has evolved to be a sweet poison
And I shall blemish my heart
Soon with the rotten potion of time
Seeking a secure shelter - your arms.

(Full poem in caption)
©Rajat Kumar Dalai //Luring Lullabies II

When dead flowers between pages
Shall speak anecdotes of amorous acts
And my eyeballs sulk down my guilt
I shall reveal my desire to decline.
Love, has evolved to be a sweet poison
And I shall blemish my heart

//Luring Lullabies II When dead flowers between pages Shall speak anecdotes of amorous acts And my eyeballs sulk down my guilt I shall reveal my desire to decline. Love, has evolved to be a sweet poison And I shall blemish my heart #poem

24 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

Luring Lullabies - I

When I stumble subtly on books and boredom,
I feel there's a part of me still stuck
With those roads of pale flowers
Of fresh autumn and less pour.
I desire to pick them one by one
But just like your eyelashes they turn back.
My nostrils fill up with muse and moisture
My eyes keep dangling
As if they shall pop out to you.

(Full poem in caption)
© Rajat Kumar Dalai //Luring Lullabies I

When I stumble subtly on books and boredom,
I feel there's a part of me still stuck
With those roads of pale flowers
Of fresh autumn and less pour.
I desire to pick them one by one
But just like your eyelashes they turn back.

//Luring Lullabies I When I stumble subtly on books and boredom, I feel there's a part of me still stuck With those roads of pale flowers Of fresh autumn and less pour. I desire to pick them one by one But just like your eyelashes they turn back. #poem

61 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

//Alexithymia(n.) - an inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner.

True pluviophiles talk of rains
Sheathing their canopy of tears
Abience to prophecies and proses
These words ought to be spacious.
(Full poem in caption)

©Rajat Kumar Dalai //Alexithymia(n.) - an inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner.

True pluviophiles talk of rains
Sheathing their canopy of tears
Abience to prophecies and proses
These words ought to be spacious

A star studded Chocolate cake

//Alexithymia(n.) - an inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner. True pluviophiles talk of rains Sheathing their canopy of tears Abience to prophecies and proses These words ought to be spacious A star studded Chocolate cake #poem

59 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

//Hiraeth(n.)- a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

You nest your eyes on hers
And ask if they're a nest of twigs
If you can find a corner with love
Or live in her beaks amidst swings...

(Full poem in caption)
©Rajat Kumar Dalai //Hiraeth(n.)- a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

You nest your eyes on hers
And ask if they're a nest of twigs
If you can find a corner with love
Or live in her beaks amidst swings

Tell her you urge to sink

//Hiraeth(n.)- a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past You nest your eyes on hers And ask if they're a nest of twigs If you can find a corner with love Or live in her beaks amidst swings Tell her you urge to sink #poem

23 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

#OpenPoetry //Blurred Mirages

You scan her words in details
But fail to feel her eyes
For words never suffice
What she means to say
Read her eyes if you can
They shall shrink and scale.

(Full poem in caption)

©Rajat Kumar Dalai //Blurred Mirages

You scan her words in details
But fail to feel her eyes
For words never suffice
What she means to say
Read her eyes if you can
They shall shrink and scale

//Blurred Mirages You scan her words in details But fail to feel her eyes For words never suffice What she means to say Read her eyes if you can They shall shrink and scale #poem #OpenPoetry

76 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

//The twig never destined

Journey is a truth inevitable enough
For reasons to tell you their own tale
And yet traverse reversing us
To take pride in bewildered play.

(Full poem in caption)

©Rajat Kumar Dalai //The twig never destined

Journey is a truth inevitable enough
For reasons to tell you their own tale
And yet traverse reversing us
To take pride in bewildered play.

Leave me betwixt fragile flowers

//The twig never destined Journey is a truth inevitable enough For reasons to tell you their own tale And yet traverse reversing us To take pride in bewildered play. Leave me betwixt fragile flowers

14 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

//Entangled

You belong to a place
Where strokes of a mere
Paint brush or a pencil is judged
By someone who has no clue
What art is!

(Full poem in caption)

©Rajat Kumar Dalai //Entangled

You belong to a place
Where strokes of a mere
Paint brush or a pencil is judged
By someone who has no clue
What art is!

//Entangled You belong to a place Where strokes of a mere Paint brush or a pencil is judged By someone who has no clue What art is!

131 Love

Rajat Kumar Dalai

//Imagery

I write you in scribbles
You tend to seep in
With each passing drop
My faucet fills your pages with
And for a moment forget
Even words can paint.

(Full poem in caption)

© Rajat Kumar Dalai //Imagery

I write you in scribbles
You tend to seep in
With each passing drop
My faucet fills your pages with
And for a moment forget
Even words can paint.

//Imagery I write you in scribbles You tend to seep in With each passing drop My faucet fills your pages with And for a moment forget Even words can paint.

150 Love

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