TANKA

Two sisters

Like two petals of a Palash

Sparkle like spring-reflections,

In cool air of the morning,

With dreams of tomorrow.

 

 ....

 

TANKA 2

 

With sparkling eyes,

Sister makes conversation,

Melody deep in

Stillness of sovereignty,

Elder one’s love within.

 

-©Asim Kumar Paul,

06.09.2013

.....

TANKA 3

No escaping

From this earth

From regions of love

Either familial entire

Or regions of human space

-©Asim Kumar Paul,

07.09.2013

Note: TANKA 2 and TANKA 3  are  posted in a poetry discussion at
The Poet's Haven in LinkedIn.com
Link: http://www.linkedin.com/groupAnswers?viewQuestionAndAnswers=&discussionID=269442047&gid=4464576&commentID=161653742&trk=view_disc&fromEmail=&ut=0QTMxvXJEKA5U1

 

 

MY GRANDSON

My grandson says nothing,

He is one and half years old,

He is feeble,

I am living far away from him,

He cannot not cry forcefully,

The baby cries and recries,

Month after month,

I fear the gathering of moss,

His vigor is lost,

Within himself,

I cry for him,

I cannot save him,

The curtain of life may fall upon him. 

RAIN

Rain, rain, rain

Midnight silence stirred

By sounds of falling rain drops,

Noisy rhythm fills the air

Breathing of heart feels the thunder.

 

Tin rooftop sounds fiercely,

As if raindrops are fearless

To pierce tin sheds with force

Of bullets, raindrops remain

Thoughtless, with death sentence.

 

We are waiting

With our destiny

Hearing bursting sounds,

We are praying

To have sequence of waves

 

That may cease air surge

That brings softened storms

And we may move to cool forms

Of our living invocation

To understand nature’s navigation.

 

LOVE POEM

Love to me it is feeling,

It is speaking to inner heart

It is like knowing the world, all in tune

Of resonance like wave in ocean

That creates, breaks within mind

Singing with hosts of thinking, and seeing

Into mind’s eye, what we discover

Upon the earth, where we go or travel,

Love poem speaks all about them.

THE CHILIKA LAKE

TheChilika Lake

Water weeds growing

Again and again,

Touch surface line

With land, filled with silence.

 

Electric wires,

Rail lines running

Alongside waters,

Passengers stare in the window,

Sound of train breaks loneliness.

 

That entire scene

Seems to know the serendipity,

And nature’s beauty,

We have the life, and

Its measures under the sun.

I HAVE TO CARRY SANDBAGS

I have to walk on a forlorn street,

My way passes by a sand filled riverside bungalow,

Where live some people with immunity,

Their field for walking is matted with green grass

And controls and measures altogether,

I cannot announce my anger in a voice,

As the wheel of interference is strong and punitive,

Victory is theirs; my anger is a lost boat in the ordeal,

Fortune comes with their dreams, I am the dry leave

To fall upon the river, they make whims and dance

With sound of whistles those are flash news,

I am the onlooker in a circus show, and they are creator

For wind in the firmament of enjoying, and I am flown,

And sandwiched through their business and green houses

With running cars I cannot even ride or hire one.

I am abandoned in a sand hill cleft,

I can only whisper, knowing I have to carry sandbags.