VERSETILE

Under the mackerel sky

I don’t know this feeling, my dear,
I don’t know what to name it.
When I first met you, I never imagined
Some years later
You would be in one of my poems,
Your name forever engraved in my heart.
I cannot tell you how I feel, my dear,
For I haven’t even told myself.
Years of meditative solitude,
Shattered just by an evening with you
Under the mackerel sky.
I cannot cross the seven seas for you,
Nor can I steal the stars from the night sky,
For I’m only human;
Only capable of speaking these lies,
Not capable of fulfilling them.
The memory of you and I walking is still so vivid;
The memory of you and I
Walking under the mackerel sky.
You had poured out your whole heart to me
Even though I was a mere stranger.
And although you would stress on your scepticism,
I always knew a part of you that longed to see
Beyond this concrete reality.
I then felt a sharp sting hit my heart brutally,
And it wouldn’t go away for a while.
I couldn’t name the pain.
Love? I couldn’t tell;
After all, I was just a naive little girl.
I felt so vulnerable;
I felt like a baby, sleeping naked and alone.
I never knew if you ever felt the same way,
Or if you even remember that day.
You probably don’t remember telling me
How you were so afraid to die,
While we were walking
Under the mackerel sky.
I could never rationalise why I felt this way for you,
I couldn’t find the math in it as you would have asked me to.
But those are just distant memories now,
And here I sit on a park bench alone,
With nothing but a part of my soul that’s you.
I wish, oh, how I wish I could have told you!
My soul is trapped in a frail, withering body
That couldn’t sail the seven seas for you;
That couldn’t steal the stars from the night sky;
That couldn’t even steal your heart.
My dear, we never know what life may throw at us;
We never know when we’re going to die,
And I just wish to see you one more time;
Just you and I, under the mackerel sky.

Rupsa M Marak, Class IX

The virus

The virus, this virus
In its various traits
Hard to relate
Hard to template
Touching the young and the old in its spate
Gaining its spreading
Without an abate
We the old foggies are filled with dismay
Young ones near us to sit, they abhor
As we’re the fast ones
Without any grace
It loves to embrace
Covid Oh Covid
It does sound so morbid
Stay home
Stay clear
That’s all to adhere.

June H Warjri

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