Thursday, 8 November 2018


Over the Chilika Lake, and
Boarded in a train,
On the way to home,
I am passing by the Lake,
To get soil, grain or a doll,
Or to find loved one.

Two boats through waters
Oh! How beautiful it is
In the autumn morning,
Blue sky, sparkling sun-light
On surface of water, I go,
Jingling with childhood days.

Over the Chilika Lake, and
Through morning delight,
I never thought of wood
To draw a curtain over
My journey, certain hope
I know holds the wind.

Over the Chilika Lake, and
Through the fishermen’s dream,
I can move to get fortune,
That may play a role
As far as I can stay on this earth,
This earth holds the birthright.

Over the Chilika Lake, and
Through the smile of sympathy,
As I have grown up old,
I am searching for loving faces
Of those who can drape me
With love and let me not to wait.

Over the Chilika Lake and
Through the colors above water,
I feel fascination with loud wows,
No blur, sharp focus, luck and elegance,
I will say, my love,
Don’t quit joy, let me enjoy.

Tuesday, 6 November 2018


One who is not a poet is a poet,
Diwali, night, darkness, light -
Simple likeness over darkness is
Whispers of dryness of illumination.

Life is whisper, light is a break and beginning
Of prize that keeps things shaped in life,
With time, events and manifestation of
Purpose, known or unknown, brings  

To receive colors of night to burn in
Illumination, above darkness behind shadows,
Lineage of truth that evolves breaks
In the night, creating morning, inside.

A rose cannot argue, glamour of light can do it.

Wednesday, 31 October 2018


This red flower hits my eyes,
in this afternoon, it fusses me,
like a cool stone in the setting sun,
as if dust forms a ring around it so long.

How do I feel now?
It is my memory what I missed
fifty five years ago at my teens.
Am I fine, well now?

Still I am restless, to find
a loving, beautiful face of my choice,
in the same air that was half a century ago.
And I feel storm followed by

Wilderness in an arc of cradle.  

Friday, 28 September 2018

The corridor where Poets and Poetry are honored. Something so beautiful for poetry lovers, too, till date.

Poets and Poetry are honored. 
It meets music of poetry. 
Only reading poetry, for three days, 
of invited poets, with a little cultural ambiance, 
no registration fee for poet delegates, 
free A-class accommodation for outstation invited poets, 
free tiffin, lunch and dinner for them, 
free contributor’s copy of the published anthology. 
Invited poets as participants have to bear travelling cost up and down to venue. 
The corridor is Guntur International Poetry Fest, conducted by
Prof. P. Gopichand and Prof. P. Nagasuseela of JKC College, 
Guntur, Andhra Pradesh, India.

Beautiful free accommodation provided, shared with poet Biswanath Kundu and me. 

Saturday, 25 August 2018


Away from old home, age being melting gold,
Searching for service in a new home,
With all sides open and loving companion
Those I want at least for last lap of my journey,
I roam from place to place with wishes
And with eyes to feel cool in new establishment
Away from burnt quotes those are still spilling
Over mind, not even blanketed being staying
Outside of old periphery scarcely three years ago,
I want to have a shelter for pleasant sun,
To love and to live there with peace
And beautiful caring personnel in that home,
That I have dreamed to live for rest of life,
But I am not blessed with vision to be reality,
As every moment I arrive at a historical epitaph,
That makes new generations alert, life is short,
And life can’t be free from pain and anxiety,
Always it favors to breathe in smoke, mingled.