Wednesday, 6 August 2014


There is no rush
On the pavement at tourists’ spot,
Between waves and loneliness,
I sit alone on marble seats,
Beside Bay of Bengal beach,
With a pair of distinct beats,
One blue horizon,
The other concrete binding,
Through the nature,
Very close to sincerity and alacrity.

Sometimes people settle down
Within images in glass, light and color,
As wave settle down with breaks,
Sucked inside ocean’s gravity,
Each habit and each wave having duty,
To create inside and outside of events
In the world that we are inhabited
With the sense, having focus on pictures,
To kindle each side of smallest slideshow,
Like the ocean’s passage with time and wave.  

No comments:

Post a Comment