My Memories Grow…
by Ananya S. Guha / April 12th, 2026
My memories grow in a field of flowers;
My memories are withered by the rains
Decimated by gun shots
A bludgeoning of silence
My memory is always caught in time warp
Of childhood and a legerdemain of adulthood
My memory:
Snippets, flashes and macabre violence
In the hill town where I live
In the hill town where I dreamt
And still dream of golden marigolds,
And ripening oranges bursting at the seams
Of contrariness, a double speak of the mind
Which dives into unplumbed deaths
Of memories that become fragile
In torrid seas
My memories cannot be the same again
Or can they in a holy conscience
Unmitigated by the storm, the gnashing wind
And turbulent seas?
Like me my memory is learning.
Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India, where he was born and brought up. He has been writing and publishing his poetry for the last forty years. His poetry has been published in both electronic and print formats such as: Indian Literature, Other Voices, Osprey Journal, Glasgow Review, The Literary Nest, Up The Staircase, Asia Writes, Art Arena, Praxis Online, Muse India, Your One Phone Call, In Between Hangovers, The Peeking Cat Magazine, Post Colonial Text among others. He has also written widely on educational and social matters. He has ten collections of poetry and his poetry has been anthologized in various collections of Indian poetry in English. He holds a doctoral on the novels of William Golding.
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This article was posted on Sunday, April 12th, 2026 at 8:00am and is filed under Poetry.
