POETRY
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Saikat has been writing poetry for years but mostly without sharing it. He has written and performed poetry for charity events and open mic nights. In 2020, he started sharing Lockdown Poetry Project. This video series is a collection of poetry in response to the political and social events of the world outside. The Lockdown Poetry Project can be viewed here.
Below is an example of Saikat's poetry. Beneath the Colour is a recent poem about his home city of Bristol. |
Beneath the Colour
Perfect pastel vista, chewy coloured row,
Far off terraced houses, draped in a patchwork throw
Had my babies squealing, beaming,
Feeling like they’re dreaming,
Free wheeling
Towards a new understanding of home.
Home, that’s where the heart pumps and beats,
With these rows of houses like confectionery treats.
This city on the river,
This giver of kisses
Has come to deliver
Memories, precious memories, neatly packaged,
Familiar and all within easy reach,
The longest stretch of local shops,
Hustle of a city with the breeze of a beach.
From Brandon Hill where we ran and fought goblins,
To gobbling samosas on St Marks Road,
Blazing a trail up at Blaise
And then winding down
Up on the Downs. Life is looking up.
And looking up, we see
The blue decorated by shiny baubles,
Boiled sweets traversing the cumulus stratosphere.
Wave kids, wave! Up there from down here,
Wave and maybe they’re waving back,
Who knows? Too far to see,
Too far or hidden in the watery depths of history.
Sometimes the truth is beneath the colour,
Something muted, altogether duller,
Behind the saccharine frontages,
Below the hot air,
There lies
Their lies.
Not all that glitters
Even when the aspect is so gold
The questions remain and the hurt is old,
Questions of names and whether you say sorry.
Let us be clear, honesty should be social policy,
Not to be demanded but given freely.
When I see thee Bristol, I still see a city divided.
Your past may be written but your future keeps me excited;
You have somewhere to go, a way in which to grow,
To come together, in mutual cooperation
And feel the possibility of actual reconciliation.
Bristol I see you, warts and all
But you’ve got to make amends
If you’re going to stand tall,
Stand tall, reach and touch the sky
While the nebulous cloud of balloons
Keep floating on by.
Perfect pastel vista, chewy coloured row,
Far off terraced houses, draped in a patchwork throw
Had my babies squealing, beaming,
Feeling like they’re dreaming,
Free wheeling
Towards a new understanding of home.
Home, that’s where the heart pumps and beats,
With these rows of houses like confectionery treats.
This city on the river,
This giver of kisses
Has come to deliver
Memories, precious memories, neatly packaged,
Familiar and all within easy reach,
The longest stretch of local shops,
Hustle of a city with the breeze of a beach.
From Brandon Hill where we ran and fought goblins,
To gobbling samosas on St Marks Road,
Blazing a trail up at Blaise
And then winding down
Up on the Downs. Life is looking up.
And looking up, we see
The blue decorated by shiny baubles,
Boiled sweets traversing the cumulus stratosphere.
Wave kids, wave! Up there from down here,
Wave and maybe they’re waving back,
Who knows? Too far to see,
Too far or hidden in the watery depths of history.
Sometimes the truth is beneath the colour,
Something muted, altogether duller,
Behind the saccharine frontages,
Below the hot air,
There lies
Their lies.
Not all that glitters
Even when the aspect is so gold
The questions remain and the hurt is old,
Questions of names and whether you say sorry.
Let us be clear, honesty should be social policy,
Not to be demanded but given freely.
When I see thee Bristol, I still see a city divided.
Your past may be written but your future keeps me excited;
You have somewhere to go, a way in which to grow,
To come together, in mutual cooperation
And feel the possibility of actual reconciliation.
Bristol I see you, warts and all
But you’ve got to make amends
If you’re going to stand tall,
Stand tall, reach and touch the sky
While the nebulous cloud of balloons
Keep floating on by.
