My Poetry: A Metapoem, written by Lopa Banerjee at

My Poetry: A Metapoem

My Poetry: A Metapoem

written by: Lopa Banerjee



My poetry was born as mistaken scraps in your notebook
Your ferociously guarded mansion, the unfamiliar swirling
In your oceanful of wants. My poetry was the closely wrapped secret
Of my night sky, dense, luscious like my Kolkata nights
Descending like the gushing cascade from the mountains of my desires
Melting like the river of melancholy in the vortex of your unwritten words.

My love, my verses blossomed in the volatile unrest as the alphabet
Of my feminine language of romance, the alphabet of unbridled screams,
The alphabet of salty tears of oppression gushed out of your lush chambers
Like unknown smells, like the half-cooked broth of a nameless, turbid sea.
My words of anguish and wayward darkness filled your manicured landscape
Your carefully crafted, sacrosanct space, but then, today, I will set them free.

My poetry, my love, will break free from the limiting scriptures in your notebook
And explode into million shards, in thunderous, ravishing rain.
Like the hurricane that bursts forth coast to coast, like a quintessential flood
That usher as the dam of maze, of prejudice, shatters, my poetry surpasses
My flesh, my womb, my sex, my birth—and recreates itself, outside my wet, dark body,
I speak poetry, the flustered language, outside your celebrated confines of binaries.

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