Friday, August 24, 2012

The Dark Poetry of Priyanka Dey

Priyanka Dey is an introspective writer. Her thoughts come from deep inside her soul and contain a sense of darkness with a hidden touch of joy. Her words burst right off the page and gently hit hard.

-Randall Webb

A few words from Priyanka:
 I have been a scribbler since I could gather my senses. I observe a lot of things happening around me. Some with me, some with the people associated to me. All of it affects me, directly or indirectly. People who read my poems often joke about how every poem can be used for writing a novel. Well I wish I could actually sit down and pen them so. But writing Prose is so very different than writing Poetry. Poetry to me, is like that inner voice, which makes you feel Alive. Do visit my Neverland (blog), and you'll hopefully understand what I mean! :)

1.The Curse
The taint is too daunty to the soul
To be camouflaged into an exemplary role
The holocaust is scarried not without
But deep within.

Your high pitched voice
Still echoes like a distant cry
My mind still shudders with fright,
Like there is a storm outside.

But it resides beneath the skin
A tempest,that burns inside
The curses pinch like glaring eyes
That stared at me, as I hid my self, or rather my 'malice'.

Daddy left you, i wish he didn't
I know he hit you,
And you cried
But did you see that I prayed for you
Of how my little soul slowly died?

Everytime you twisted my arm and wringed me to the ground
I scathed and pleaded
While you hit me, made me blue eyed.
People at high school called me names
Sometimes mad, gothic n maniac
And others thought I was a confused whore
They mocked at me, pinched me around
As I kept applying some more makeup
To hide the bruises, that showed.

The Curses, hurt though the cuts have gone
Tears have dried but my heart is numb
You cursed me Mommy, now look at me
A failed marriage, a heart broken me
As I await to kill another life
Abort the life that is forming inside
I failed as a daughter, you told me I would fail
But I won't let one more Amanda be born
And die a death every single day she'd live
Look what you cursed me into, Ma
I live a living death,
as I await to abort her, my baby..
She won't be cursed. No more.

2.The Murder

And I wiped off the stains

from my dress, now a pale white
Nevermind, I have done my job
Yes! I'd won the fight.
The untouched tea, a witness of my act
was flushed away, into the sink
as I washed the last traces of the vestiges
into the flow of water, it was all lost and gone.

I suddenly felt the surge of victory within
and I laughed out my pride
as I recalled the murder I'd committed,
Of the poor little Mice!

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