Sonnet Mondal







New Diaspora


Austral winds lead by a squall upon the elliptical land

alarm of their existence through a fast breathing earth

hurling up a panorama of dust in aloofness.


The mad land,

void of life

rejoices the smell of wet winds;

fragrances itself with the powder of light rain;

decorates itself with battered tree leaves and dead twigs.


Spirits of murderers hanged in rows

await the Draconian penalty

to separate them from this warmonger country.


Their death was a debenture from the banks of land losers

and the incoming fury would repay them.


The seeping purposeless waters and propelling air inject vigour

into nomadic phantoms to reach the banks of river and

set sail to craft a new Diaspora.




Behind bushes beneath daffodils


The head falls straight on the foothills

where daffodils and bushes share a strange familiarity

between wilderness and love.


Thorns beget a protective cushion

rough enough for rolling serpents to rise and muse,

fall away and rise again

to spit poison like a Spitting Cobra-


creeping poisons

sleep as a sleeping village pillowed by sound of crickets,

wheezing darkness or interrogative movements of fake phantoms


just to share a common place

among the dews (shivering to set free the freshness of leaves and vapours)


Death residing amidst eternity resides

with a paradox upon ‘dormancy’ while

evil eyes wait for lovers to lick the orifice of nature

and lie on those foothills which veil

truths amidst engrossing salsa of unclothed grasses


and ornamental lampoon of drunken daffodils.







On a Rain Bleached Day


Painted in its own course

this rain bleached sky re-recites a morning

of cornflakes, school dress and the alarming wait

of the horn-

The horn of the school bus,

Splashing through waterlogged potholes

(an ever piercing  bug of punctuality).


Same reel of outmoded records

propounded by saintly sanity of winds

calms my waywardness into

a restlessness of melancholy.


Twisted neck towards the cassette

plays a thin tune out of a chained gramophone

(far afield cries of souls)


And it’s a loneliness standing beside me

by the balcony attached window

murmuring an intone to spread

its effect

to the dancing trees into a quarrel of stillness

to the shivering stray dogs

to the fallen fruits in storm


Am I the chosen performer today

to perform upon the songs of loneliness

for those maidens who come as air, fragrances

and moves apart

as the vapour-lost clouds, spreading apart


by the lining of a peeping sun?














Sonnet Mondal is an Indian poet and the founder of The Enchanting Verses Literary Review. He has authored eight collections of poetry his most recent book being Prismatic Celluloid (Authorspress India). He was bestowed Poet Laureatefrom Bombadil Publishing, Sweden in 2009 and was awarded “The IPTRC International Best Poet award” from World Poets Quarterly. His works have appeared in several international literary publications including The Sheepshead Review (University of Wisconsin, Green Bay), The Stremez, India Today, Nth Position, Fox Chase Review, The Penguin Review (Youngstown State University), Two Thirds North (Stockholm University), California State Poetry Quarterly (California State Poetry Society) and Friction Magazine (New Castle University) to name a few. Most recently, he has been enlisted as a National Record Holder as “The First Indian to write a new type of Sonnet Poetry” at the Indian Book of Records.


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