Tuesday, 31 January 2012


A smiling can give life a spirit of love,
even though it is really absent in love lost,
but a look in woman face, a beautiful one,
makes one to feel the earthly touch and care
from outside and inside travel in love charm,
and feeling may disappear if she disappears,
and it is the fate that the earth moves fast,
and its axis of rotation has no mistake
with life, fear, tear, birth, and symphony of love.


You first talk with me,
Then you  hide or go idle,
It is an obvious way of neglect,
I learn the code,
An abstract of mind's agony,
And I am dissolved in search of the cause, 
A haunting for love and touch.

Who knows the synthesis?
Inserted it is in opposite to mind’s desire,
An embodiment of loss and broken terms,
A sound secret that I cannot express,
And go with it many days' work
In solitude and desert,
Decoding in your eyes’ choice
And I am living with it
For more than a year,
A texture given in a pensive tie.

Thinking comes into me
I have perhaps wasted time,
With you in favor of love,
And I am not in life’s treasure
That we all want to have
With love and destiny,
And I am not clear to leave or stay
In the idle mode or favor,
Talks are absent in habits, not in blossom,
But I want to build it so long in multitudes
Of love and time, a pensive moment.

Questions come in my mind -
What quality do I have to conquer love?
What is required to love a loved one?
What is the manifestation precisely
I have to quality to generate love?
Only talks are not the work to love,
And there is a perhaps new design,
And I have to appear in a new way,
I feel it for someone to feel love,
Because I have no heroic charms
And I have to plant one motive
To establish identity for love,
Power to write a verse,
And power to establish faith and devotion
That love needs to have with everyone,
And I am blank in that sense, I presume.

Loneness brings me to have in deep sigh,
Mind cannot flee, if love is born and torn.

Saturday, 28 January 2012


My mind brings blue bonding in my loneliness, and I go out to see the age, the life, and the transition.

I walk side by side many commuters to the Kolkata Book Fair, 2012 that generates two bonds - free bond and love bond. And young generation persons come down with beautiful hearts to see and feel the growing charms of the earth that bears basic principles of  love and its synthesis. I just accommodate my footsteps with them and I get an entry to the book fair ground, a wave of pronunciation to mingle with rich carriers of love density, sequence, and the earth's travel in blessings of love.

Today is Saturday, a day of worship of Devi Swaraswati, Goddess of learning, a common and great blooming of young pretty girls who get freedom first to wear a sari and move to the book fair ground flickering like eye lashes in the first morning sun light, as images of love and notions of red rosy blooms, having freedom from parental supervision, dwelling in different ways of teens' love in heart and mind. This is the first dancing time to travel in giant love platform in delight, and it is our Valentine's Day and it is our symbol of first love, first touch to someone who is first known person with promising love, brought up to the shore of oceanic feeling of love, hopes of luminous deal of love and desire that signify the crown of measures and treasures of sweet feeling, in an active control of perception and testimony; and it is a profile of corresponding loving heart with words, bonds, basics of thoughts and womanhood, liking one beloved friend travelling in book fair ground, flowing through lordly stands on love complements with elements of judgement of love bonding patterns, a big leap for gains, free breathing space, a gentle touch, and this is the time to feel affection to a new friend in pure love interpretation.

The earth gives dreams of love,
in repetitive simplicity to know the birth.

Friday, 27 January 2012


Roaming in the Kolkata International Book Fair, 2012, I feel in a different way, no search for my favorite books, lonely I move, lonely I remember someone who is not with me, yet living with me, as if, I am in a fantasy of love, a top-most feeling of real love sworn. I feel no courage to see the focal theme pavilion on Italia, or the 200 years’ celebration of Charles Dickens, or books on one hundred and fifty years celebration of Nobel award winning poet  Rabindranath Tagore, or of Swami Bibekananda, or books on one hundred and twelve years of poet Kaji Najrul Islam.  Lastly I decided to sit at the little magazines’ pavilion. I have to put calmness in my bleeding mind.         

I found no crowd therein, a forlorn singing; marvelous self publishers, authors, editors are sitting with delight as if they have  won the world; you may praise or purchase their products, it is not their concern, they come here to correctly place their endeavour to find new writers and new young thinkers on literature and culture, and finding newness of thinking brains is their pride and symbol of existence with war of words, in new form and content

Reading comes from eagerness to know,

Searching comes from selection and favored esteem,

And all visitors do not come from  one platform

Some come to search, some come to enjoy,

Some come to sell; some come to know the unknown.

I sit on a chair at  a table of a renowned little Bengali magazine

I see rows of tables where the enthusiastic worker and devotees of small presses

Are burning like incessant candles, and a few visitors are watching and enquiring something,

And I cannot say what they are enquiring about, and I find two or three foreigners there.

The message is something frustrating,

A crowd and a little magazine are not shared like blossoms,                   

If one goes to morning work, other goes to create words’ reflections,

The sun has the lighting power to emblazon the reflection with the message of love,

The morning worker gets the message that he does notice he has shared.

One customer stands before the displaying table and chooses a book,

Perhaps he missed the book that is also available in a big publishing house,

And he makes an argument, “Why the commission for selling of the book will not be allowed

Beyond 15 percent whereas that big publisher sells the book at a reduced rate by 25 percent less.”

My friend does not argue much, and say, “Please take it, at Rs.180.00

Which is nearly 20 percent less, and I cannot come down more.”

When the transaction is complete, the customer takes a close view of the book purchased,

And one word just comes out, “O! It is a new edition for Kolkata Book Fair, 2012.”

My friend just tells me that he sells it at a certain loss to compete the big publishing houses here.  

New generation youth comes with smiling, and on our displying table one  young women

Comes and just makes an appeal, “Please attend the meeting on the university campus,

And we are inviting all editors of small presses to say their views on little mags.”

I look at the speaker, a new and energetic woman face that blooms the search

For a visionery servey of the young world, with pacifying eyes to love the world,

And I am happy to see the waving of her journey for counting the possibilities of existence,

And it may be a research work for little magazines; it may get published or debated, or rewarded,

Yet these little magazines will not get lift to be a commercially live, without advertising.

Thursday, 26 January 2012


Better a little love than no love,
Old love  goes out, I learn it in my stupid journey,
I move on my own, on my separate path.

My lady love gives me waiting puzzle,
And I find she has no tolerance inside for me,
And somewhere she writes, "My new friend gives me laughter and giggle."

I learn there are many ways to deny someone,
Who is nothing but a crazy and lost vibration,
Hard it is to me to believe, a friend cannot be lover.

A voice comes inside my heart,
"Please search someone who can feel your heart."
-"What I can get from the new one?" I question.

"What do you mean what happens in your mind?" is the inside answer.
-"I mean to love another woman who takes me
as valuable one, a friend and a lover, too."  I answer.

"A man has to possess what a man can do himself." is the inner answer.  

Tuesday, 24 January 2012


Passed are those days when love has walking passage

Not propagated in the like manners that we do now in web pages.

I do not let me go as my teacher’s messenger,

As he intends me to carry a letter to his lady love,

I love him and also honor him, my teen’s God,

For his success as teacher from a poor family,

And I sit down before him on a mat on ground

To listen his lectures on math and chemistry,

To bring a full solution on his notes on my copy book,

And I consider him a friend of mine, a revered guide.

One day, he becomes vigor to call me strongly

 And says me to accept his proposal for a price,

I become cordial more than what it is to be normal

And I become a passionate to his feeling for love

That he wants it to share with his beloved one,

And I am not a bar on one sense of of songs

That I feel when I read the book on poet Kailas’s Shakuntala

That moves me great to feel the love and its pearls.

My eagerness, my thinking, my soluble teen sense

Make me feel into the emotions of love, a painter’s work

That is in my heart, and common to all hearts,

A beautiful and sober understanding of love and smiles.

And I use my freedom to do the bold job by my heart

And I take the closed envelope containing the letter

That rightly expresses the love in words and well painted

Image of heart’s desire that is also my interest of temptation

What is written in the closed cover, a loveframe.

I feel the urge to meet the unknown lady, to execute my duty,

And I reach her as early I can walk to her near

And I become spell bound seeing her beauty like an angel

Who descends on the earth, and waiting for his love,

And very coldly I hand over the closed envelope to her.

When she looks at the letter, she is emblazoned with blush

As if her first priority is the feeling of the message

That is sent to her from a heaven that is convent dream

And charm of love sense that she is waiting so long

To have the passage to mingle with relief from pains

That is not with her desire, and she wants a freedom

To such love things that can hold her heart’s feeling.

And she lifts her lotus eyes and glances at me, and

She says in calm and confirmed voice,

“Please tell your teacher, I love him, and do not open the letter,

And I preserve it throughout of my life as an evidence of love,

And you are cute messenger who gives me the first message

To overcome the barrier and to remain with him this life and later life too.”

Monday, 23 January 2012


I look at my glass screen to view her,

And I find her presence on the talking side,

And she perhaps is present here for a long time,

I am happy to see her and

Make my greetings,


Response is first to reply, “Hi!”

And I find she puts a short poem on her wall

And I think it is an opening way to talk with her

And I want to make lines in the thread on the frame

To make a picture of my desire and put my feelings there,

And I write on the comment box:

“I want you to be mine

I want you to be present

Between love and sense

I want to invade all that you have

At every open path and rhythmic singing

Moment by moment in mingled pleasure and imprints..

When my heart sinks into heating flow of your feeling.

Immediately after, she writes there,

“Oh! No, my poem is not for you,

My poem is for someone, living far away,

He is not in my direct contact,

Who is angry with me and does not talk with me,

I write my feeling to express my love to him.”

I feel strangeness in her mind,

Previously I was on the lines of thread many times,

She did not shrink her heart on my thin lines,

And she was free to put her words and lines

To complete the tread of love and

I have found laughter in her words like that of eyes.

Today I feel glass screen is perfect in raptures for moving images,

It is not that that has to be happened in normal way of living.

Saturday, 21 January 2012


A little distance can give feeble gain or nothing,
Across the open wave path, viruses are accompanying,
Sunlight may be pale to give love sense, heat weakening,
And I have to face the question:
What is love from a distance?
Of deep talks, I am in battle of thoughts, so long
I cannot touch the love wall, far away from its shadow,
As if my feeling goes down with weak stream of love
And I am clear I am late to feel the breathing twist
That has some hard feeling in cloud sense of love,
And I have to think the darker possibility than secured one
In a love trip, a careless choice of random joining.
And the answer may be “We take or give nothing what we share.”

Thursday, 19 January 2012


No, I do not love you,
As I see you a bit later in your changed form,
As you are not on earlier junction in expression,
You are now different in the attachment of wall.
The vessels of my blood do feel inflammation
Response is now a silence that is a burden you spend,
And every time at my call for chatting,
You feel no delight of my surface calls,
You overrule my love by force to specific turn
To feel, you do not love me anymore, an abhor.

You young woman, you live in my heart,
Your young mind, I love it, I adore it,
In whose response I do love you, honey,
It is heaven; you give me nature’s delight,
I love you one time; you look in my eyes,
Gladdened me in a role during talking
And now you are ignoring me all the time.

O dear lady beauty, I do not love you
I do not understand how my affection
Gets married with your love meditation
Binding selection of conjures to reasons,
I am now lonely, and cannot transfuse
My love into real love one, but remain
In saintly devotion in search of love in adhesion
That keeps me settled to live in compassion,
And it is my delight and it is my fate and fashion
As you are my loss of perfection, all gap junctions,
And now I favor a love, that puts firmness in togetherness. 


Lovely bonding does flow
Love surfaces on the glow
Releasing and relieving
Concert of love divine
Body charms on the
Scope and speed singing,
Cultured in cord of delight
Formation of perfect flowing
Perfect coating, a descendant
Life blooms, perfect and eternal flowing.
Thanks to ……

Frost does care water and cold
Joy grows with love and culture
Corn comes from seeding bloom
Blood assemble to form passion
Affection does some make up
Of life and its fruits of sacrifice
That gives birth of love invitation
Adoration gives fulfillment
In heart, in mind and in soul
And we  are conditions of love.
Thanks to …..

Note: These two poems of mine first published in Facebook. I assemble them in my Blog.


One word aptly spoken
Structural clues
Bond between pairs
Flip in body parts
Expression steps in.


Situation twisted
Widespread splash
Back and forth
Access of blues
Matured rise


We permit pairing
Sequences not identical
New voice comes out
One copy of each shared
Replication comes out.

Life begins anew in human kingdom.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012


Life, I know what it is if she is with me.
What does it if she is with me when we are together?
I know she takes part and I take a bosom meet, afloat,
The place, the time, the event are not a matter of concern,
I know what our bodies are doing with love breakfast,
The art the limbs take part in forming body use tracts,
Values that boil, and taste reaches at the peak of pleasure,
First begins in eyes, then in mouth, and lastly we do fly,
Words of love, promises of love, closeness of love –
Bring heaven and interwoven in body surge to declare:
“I am the earth, I am the love, and I am the gift of love’s love.”

Life, I know what it is if she is not with me.
What does it if she is away from me when we are selfish?
I do not feel any essence of love; the vast ocean is not blue,
I forget to pursue me for self protection, and that is why
I cannot be warring knight, and words moving around
Do not sprinkle love singing, and instead decrease meaning
And  gifts of love, where thoughts and feelings disappear,
It is a phase of love intolerance, living desire steals away energy,
Either in the same time of her leaving me, or within four years,
Which is earlier, and I cannot chose my own time
That was once her time of leaving, thinking of mine,
And now I am moved by high sequence of inactive sway
Of existence, moving into disorder of living symptoms,
Inability to grow my own pattern of thinking and living.
My life is now a spoonful retreat that is easily sipped out.


In my poetry journey, when I am word binding,
And I am moving with distant web page confined,
A gentle wave first comes on my way of walking,
And a first lonely follower comes waking
From a distant land, I do not know either,
On famed passing or delighted green, or altogether,
And by name, it seems it is a woman or a man,
Following my poem, first on the page,
And a trembling sequence comes in my mind,
Calm, an imagination of my unfurled invites.
She is in a chamber where a silent observer is,
Sheltered in wonder silence to adore every word
I write when I am in mood to wow the world
Of love and sequence of random voyage
In my page, a separate chamber of poetic flame
That I try to light with softest wear and capable evolution.
And both we are side by side chambers,
One chamber for writing and other chamber for following,  

An energy sequence in that
Writing from chamber 1 – looking from chamber 2
Enjoying the both means of words and its following jubilee,
A convoy of enthalpy, revealing life’s beauty.

Many times, I think to know her, by sending messages,
Every time, I do not reach to conclusion what to raise more
To know her, and instead I love to let her stay
Into the special height of her chamber, an entropy
And energy to have a morning singing of my love. 

Tuesday, 17 January 2012


She comes like a little girl,
Completing home task given in school,
Like a moonlight to fill the earth,
A bottom of love I do feel on her path,
That gives a fresh breathing in my stillness
That so long stays with me as I am
Not talking with her, to feel it in the form of fire,
Every time she talks with me giving virgin assurance,
And I forget that I am mature one
And have passed a long way round about,
And in her talks I feel comfort and pleasure,
As if she holds all of me - my heart, my body, my life -
To clean all narrow thinking to walk on broader sensing.
She is thus makes me fueled to move on amorous wheel,
As if the universe is making us to be one flame of love,
And we are two sweet couples in our teen ages,
When first budding sense of touching and kissing
Is glorious to assemble in body and mind,
A sense and a communication to the world divine,
To see body shapeliness, and then entering in folds,
We are in the way of clicking of like buttons,
In web of body’s victory to access life and pride gains.

Sweet dreams are still with me
And when I talk with her, she guides me with love.  


The flame of love puts me in pain,
It ignites my love sense as I search for her,
My burns are not in tandem with her tern,
As I dare not to send more censure upon silence,
That she bears as natural instinct she holds upright,
And I do not make her bend more on love connoisseur
To feel me to feel her, in like manner, sacrifice,
A dictum that we both have to follow in belief of love.
My prayer is not heard and I am at a distant land,
That is the great barrier to stand between
Love and lover; the trust, the motto, the sublime
Those keep everyone in the sequence of seasonal terms
Of love in both composed and un-composed search
Of ride of mind over touch and passion, a race in sensation,
Amidst love cycles inscribed in settlement of fulfilled destination.

Monday, 16 January 2012


My poem is translated into Greek language by Poet Kapardeli Eftichia 

I come down at a station to get my limbs free from train jerks,
And move on the platform a little, at the wildest steps of relief,
And when departure whistle is blown, 
I horridly come to my chair in compartment,
And I find a lady is sitting on the chair allotted to me,
And with disgust, I say, “Madam, the chair is mine.”
She smiles and moves a little, and says, “Just see it is my chair no. 46,
Your chair number is 45, and my berth is upper one, 46.”
And it is enough for me to understand my fault, 
As my berth is joining of two chairs, containing numbers 45 and 46,
And the upper birth is straight, and I say to her, “Be comfort, dear lady.”
She smiles, “Ok, I am fine, and I will get down after three hours.”
She wears blue jeans pant and brown top,
She is in her young charms, smiling always on her lips,
And by little moving of her body, her hips swing,
That is her charm in a man’s eyes,
She brings out one lap top from her bag,
And inserts data card to navigate internet,
And she is verily engaged in her lap top screen,
And imagination of her eyes that depict interference of her love, 
And her face becomes full with anger,
And then I say, “What happens dear lady?”
She does not lift her eyes, and simply says,
“No telephone tower, I cannot connect to my working site.”
“What you do, dear lady passenger?” I say. 

“I am a software engineer in a private farm.”
She replies, and lifts her eyes towards me,
It is seduction I feel in her illustrated eyes,
And a little anger makes her hold to give me her laptop
And says, “Just see the screen, the cursor moves,
But the internet cannot be open, and I am in a hurry
To send message to my office about the development, 
That I do in my leave period at home, and also tell them,
That I am joining today.”
Her looks are like opening an envelope of delight, sweet anger
That fills my mind, the way of sensuous affection,
To feel her helplessness not getting connected in moment’s need.
It is a mystical sojourn I feel in a train,
And I take her laptop with some ionized bindings,
That play at variable regions on my great day,
And just I take a look on her laptop,
And then return back it to her, as if I am not prepared to this gasp 
Of moving moment of spirit and love,
And I find her in an illustrated moment soon,
And she takes back her lap top and closes it and puts it in her bag,
And looks out side of the train through the widow. 
Her posture is lovely and her figure is a tempted dance,
Hiding behind a ladder that portrays love movement,
I am feeling some happiness in talking with her,
Some pacifying aspects of life, that has no limitations,
In the foliage of love, movement and time’s wonder. 
I am moving with wind of love, 
Like a singing in a mammoth nestle,
The more nature and life comes before me, 
The more I become settled in love.
- By Asim Kumar Paul, 21.12.2011 

Κατεβαίνω στον σταθμό για να ξεμουδιάσω από το τράνταγμα του τρένου 
και να κινηθώ λίγο στην πλατφόρμα αφού κάνω λίγα βήματα ανακούφισης 
Και όταν το τρένο σφυρίζει για αναχώρηση
Βρίσκομαι πάλι στην θέση μου στο βαγόνι 
Και βρίσκω μια κυρία να κάθεται στην δική μου θέση 
Και με αποστροφή της λέω ‘Κυρία η θέση είναι δική μου’
Χαμογελά και κινείται λιγάκι και λέει «δείτε ακριβώς αυτό είναι η θέση μου αριθ. 46, Ο αριθμός της θέση σας είναι 45, και της δικής μου είναι ένα νούμερο πιο πάνω το 46 o Και αυτό είναι αρκετό για μένα να κατανοήσω το λάθος μου , Καθώς στο βαγόνι οι δυο θέσεις είναι ενωμένες και περιέχουν τους αριθμούς 45 και 46
Όταν το βαγόνι ευθυγραμμίζεται τότε της λέω Αναπαυθείτε αγαπητή Κυρία 
Αυτή χαμογελά Εντάξει είμαι καλά ,θα κατεβώ μετά από τρεις ώρες.»
Φοράει μπλε τζιν παντελόνι και καφέ ζώνη
Είναι μια γοητευτική κυρία, με ένα πλατύ χαμόγελο 
καθώς κουνά το όμορφο σώμα της, και τους λεπτούς γοφούς της 
αυτή είναι γοητευτική στα μάτια ενός άνδρα,
Μεταφέρει ένα lap top στην τσάντα της 
Και εισάγει την κάρτα δεδομένων για πλοήγηση στο internet
Και συμμετέχει πολύ σοβαρά στην οθόνη του lap top
Και η φαντασία στα μάτια της απεικονίζουν την παρέμβαση της αγάπης της,
Και στο πρόσωπό της φαίνεται ο θυμός, 
και τότε λέω, «τι συμβαίνει αγαπητή κυρία;»
Δεν ανυψώνει τα μάτια της, και λέει απλά, Χωρίς τηλεφωνική σύνδεση δεν μπορώ να συνδεθώ με την ιστοσελίδα εργασίας μου 

Τι αξιαγάπητος γυναικείος επιβάτης, λέω 
«Είμαι μηχανικός λογισμικού σε ένα ιδιωτικό αγρόκτημα.»
Απαντά, και ανυψώνει τα μάτια της προς εμένα,
Καθώς με αποπλανούν τα κατακάθαρα μάτια της 
Λίγο ακόμα θυμωμένη μου δίνει το laptop
Και μου λέει "Απλώς δείτε την οθόνη, κινείται ο δρομέας

Αλλά το Διαδικτυο δεν είναι ανοικτό,
και βιάζομαι για να στείλω το μήνυμα στο γραφείο μου για την ανάπτυξη,
Αυτό κάνω στην διάρκεια της άδειας μου στο σπίτι, και επίσης να τους πω,
Ότι είμαι συνδεδεμένη σήμερα. "
Η εμφανιση της μοιαζει σαν το άνοιγμα ένα φάκελου της απόλαυσης
γλυκός θυμός που γεμίζει το μυαλό μου, ο τρόπος της αισθησιακής αγάπης,

αισθάνεται αβοήθητη που δεν μπορεί να συνδεθεί την κατάλληλη στιγμή 
Είναι μια μυστική παραμονή που αισθάνομαι σε ένα τραίνο,

Και παίρνω το lap-top της με μερικές έτοιμες συνδέσεις,
αυτό το παιχνίδι μου αλλάζει την μεγάλη ημέρα μου,

Και ακριβώς ρίχνω μια ματιά στο lap-top της,
Και έπειτα της το επιστρέφω , αφού δεν είμαι έτοιμος για αυτή την κίνηση 
της στιγμής του πνεύματος και της αγάπης,
Και την βρίσκω σε μια εξαιρετικά γρήγορη στιγμή,
παίρνει πίσω το lap top το κλείνει και το βάζει στην τσάντα της

και κοιτάζει έξω από το παράθυρο του τρένου 
Η στάση της είναι καλή και η φιγούρα της μοιάζει σαν μια κίνηση χορού 
κρύβεται πίσω από μια σκιά που απεικονίζει την στιγμή της αγάπης 

Αισθάνομαι ευτυχισμένος όταν μιλώ μαζί της 
Μερικές πτυχές ειρήνης της ζωής χωρίς περιορισμό
Στο φύλλωμα της αγάπης της στιγμής και του χρόνου 
Κινούμαι με τον αέρα της αγάπης, 
Όπως ένα τραγούδι σε ένα μικρό μαμούθ ,
Ολη η φύση και η ζωή έρχονται ενώπιον μου, 
Και ερωτεύομαι για πάντα 

-translated into Greek language by Poet Kapardeli Eftichia