[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Poems by Ripon Handique – Issue.XXXI : August 2017 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]from the depths…[/ultimate_heading]

Ripon Handique (b.1983) lives in Assam. He studied in Nagaland, Andhra Pradesh and Delhi. He worked as a teacher for 5 years. Since at present unemployed, he thinks about the language aspect of poetry; even though it’s not fundamental.



May the voice of reason


It’s sanity to this clutter


All directions without an end

For a veneer

Touted as the glow

Of sacrifice.

May my hands, dripping blood

On this crumbling hills, fling

This burning flag

They with their death wave.

And under that cracking sky,

May innocence again

Be unfurled

To breathe.



This morning, by my thoughts clouded,

Finds its range narrowed

Under a hood of leaves faded.

Dark clouds, by flashes of lightning

Embellished, with faint drops of rain

Somewhere alighting,

Unfurl their clipped wings, with greyness

Painted on stillness,

To renew this voyage timeless.

Maybe  I’ll never see these shores,

As I set sail with what I have,

Wandering and drifting

Beyond those clouds, for you.



Her slender figure wafted through the night.

The night was long, dark and lonely.

And lonely eyes admired her slender hands.

Slender hands almost clutching herself!


This stale air that had warmed me.

Warmed me to admire that figure.

That figure whose hands…unheeded?

Hands unheeded by a speeding auto.


Then a swift glance at me showed fear.

Showed fear blazing her face.

Her face that was …so tender.

So tender, my… slender sister!

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