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Juxtaposition of hopeful despair

Rupam Dutta

All the colors of time

spinning on their brittle axis

The yellow hows, the purple ifs,

and the blue whys

Winter has not just set in,

it was always there

Summer is just an illusion, always was

Just the way we are wounded,

today and forever

Like burnt matchsticks –

still warm after the flame has gone out

And we climb the mountains

of our own making

Calling it success,

as the sky laughs down

on our futile attempts

We loiter on hope's doorstep

Wondering when it will let us in

Never realizing

that the door was always unlocked.



Poet Rupam Dutta

is also a playwright and

a novelist. He lives in


[Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in our Blog are those of the author(s) / poet(s) and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Publisher.]


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