Saturday, 1 November 2025

Poetry 2025 Longlist, Deeya Bhattacharya

 WEAVING


Weaving is a craft; when you

fall out of relations, or you

buy an expensive décor for

your home. It is the ancient

of all crafts; that man has ever Know;


White crisp Jasmine buds woven

together ; on a corpse, or

a portrait isn’t different at all;

in the Sense of intricacy of work;

of a flower- Weaver. Mango

leaves woven into a door-hanging

at Pongal, is an auspicious omen;

where each Slick fresh green leave

hanging limp side by Side in

a queue, is a feast welcome.


The Humming-bird; is the

world's most intrinsic weaver:

spinning in the air;

for moments together; purple,


blue, green at a Supersonic Speed

barely visible while sucking

nectar with its beak sticking long;


This Cosmos; that weaves the

milky way into day and night,


into eclipses; the moon waning

and waxing like a half sickle

or a Candy floss, which a

child sucks ; the master weaver;

unknown; hidden; in the womb

of the Absolute Truth ; that

birthed the first protoplasm , is

a stupendous act.


For years, we have been woven

into species varied

that gave birth

and made possible;

the genome

manifesting itself into variety

on the Earth.


The blue eyed girl, or the

lanky fellow; or the piggish

face, curly haired,

Squints, blondes, Albino

Woven strands.

of the exact set of genome

masterpiece of an Immortal Weaver.


Did man learn it from

Him ; or was man made

to justify the excellant

forn of craftmanship;

we call weaving; today,


an industry, an art,

or culture specific to


Gererations onwards ……….

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