CHILIKA LAKE REVISITED

A POEM ON YOU TUBE 

CHILIKA LAKE REVISITED 

CLOUD

A poem, in the link

CLOUD

কাশফুল

সকালবেলায় একসারি কাশফুল

আমার যাওয়ার পথে ভেসে এলো

রোদ্দুর গায়ে মেখে সেই পথপ্রান্তর,

সাদা মেঘদের কোলে ঘুরে বেড়াই

আজীবন, সূর্যের পরশ, সপ্নপ্রাঙ্গন ।                                    

নদীনালা, মন্দির, গাছগাছালি পেরিয়ে

যত ছুটে চলি, উঠে আসে ভ্রমণবৃত্তান্ত,

পৃথিবীর মাটি যেন দাতব্য আলয়,

সংগ্রহশালায় সবকিছু জীবনমুখী,

জীবন-গতি পরাজিত নয়, স্থির-বাক নয় ।

একটু স্পর্শ, একটু উষ্ণ ভাল লাগা,

একগুচ্ছ  কাশফুলের অহংকার,

ধুলো ঝেড়ে ফেলে পথ পরিক্রমা,

মনের পরিস্রাবণ, আকাশের গোলাপ-সান্নিধ্য

সবই আমাদের জীবনের কথোপকথন ।

LOVE AND LONG SILENCE

I am moved because I know it is white

Down from clouds to flowers

On the way of whole tour,

Somebody shows me love for beauty.

I never say to detract you,

Even at the time when I am crushed

And I am here to call all beauty -

Grass, flowers, clouds are neighbors.

I do still hold child’s feeling,

With blooming of Kans flower,

At every step of growing concept

Under the sky it is version of delight.

The cool breeze accommodating clouds,

Softly blowing over flowers

Bending upon touches of love,

Not injecting a simple hurt.

Still there are other movers

Buses, trucks, rails are current stimulus,

Pedestrians are threatened

To obey rule of scattered law

That you start out on modern wheels,

Otherwise end up with catastrophe

Happening with every walkers

Marginalized from rest of world,

Yet mind is omnipotent for more love,

It searches with bare feet for eternity,

It avoids thunders and patchy choice

Of sycophant motives, - long silence. 

Short story slam week 53: BOOKS

Books are playing values of words’ meaning,

“Learn more, love more, and move for totality”

Books are not meaningless bones to carry

Wreckage, nerveless audience for strained feeling,

Designs and texts are published in artful creation,  

Words are seen, read, felt, held image deep into heart.

Just think how much you are alone after student life?

Reading, writing, examining were then like prayer and hope

To live happily outside the gate of the institute,

You cannot describe it in freedom of winding livelihood.

ATM cards, internet, web page are just charred account

Of the life, this is nothing but monotone, languishing pain.

A printed book has smell of paper, shows up liberation

From conduit of hidden black web sites, across island

To mainland to world, and books adventurously enriched

With knowledge and courage, for life soon-to-be-glorified.  

LOVER’S LOST LOVE

LOVER’S LOST LOVE

Present scene: Bathing together in a pond.

No, she is not here. I am remembering the past.

She was the young, nearly of my same age.

Spreading of attraction, many times binding hands

Pull her into chest around the neck.

Picture: swimming

Village pond allows swimming mood,

It can give space for long bathing kingdom,

One can be drowned in its water, in rosy syndrome,

But this is not happened always.

It has no courage to give villagers this scope.

She was drowned many years ago,

Floating I am.

From village to city, one sound.

I do not want to repeat her name.

She is on her best life. I can’t follow.

LOVE IN RAIN

I remember the days, when

She was first with me in rain,

And we sat on the bank of this pond

For long, dancing in emotion,

To stretch hands to catch rain-drops,

Having our bodies wet in water

Of rain, with great excitement,

That we felt skin touch

To melt in exultation,

Now memory fills my mind.

Rain was her favorite language

To pronounce love to take me, to

Ripe focus of untold expression,

And she was obvious to perpetuate

Love in my presence, happy dreams,

And every rainy season she sat on

Cemented stairs, built going down to

Middle of the pond, and she made

Every move sure to gain love,

Even one day she pushed me in pond

When it was raining heavily,

Swiftly I came out of the pond swimming,

And embraced her, it was euphoric.

Today I sit alone, she left me many

Years ago with someone she found best,

The sky brings rain; cloud is full of tears,

I am alone to remember blank raining visuals.

  

FIRST KISS

This picture gives me memories of past

That I carry always across travelling to present living

You sent a message in in-box of Facebook,

You explained difference between you and me,

Hurting my heart, mind and body,

But love is not a presence of dogma, it is sense.

It is not only a word; also a migration in loving nutshell

Literally it is felt proudly

Into the mind of people, invites a cord of

Individual feelings, even if you stay thousands miles

Away, it makes everyone warrior after first kiss,

That makes us smaller to greater to feel proud.

You cannot break away from that great touching

Mood of holding neck to feel body warm,

Splitting from its feeling is like trilling sense of love.

May be I am at lapse of my understanding you,

You are woman, you are creator, you are Desdemona.

You are my heaven, I do never do abuse you.  

I always walk in chatting through a single line,

With performing quality of love,

I never want to see you as my rival.

Yet you make distance from me,

As if I am a stranger, as if you finished shopping

In a BIGBAZAR and finished your journey,

And I am searching you in that blue light zone of

Mall, and my hands are empty.

Being keener in my first love, I am still spent time

For you, dear. I am free for your love.

Please read these lines.

Words have power to live together here.

FORGOTTEN LOVE

Only thing I remember I have to leave,

I want to erase everything that I bear so long,

Her words resonate in mind,

“You do what you can do.”

Lingering with the thinking,

It will upset me, I cannot move

Or search for love all the time

And cannot make me locked in sad feelings,

She thinks life is funny and strange too,

The road I am passing in this night

Is full of vibrating lights, it means

I have to make choice of love

That is my own, and she thinks right,

Strangeness is the charm,

Even if the bridge I am passing is lonely,

Still it is determined to feel “I” is one endurance.  

  

LOST LOVE

Raindrops scare themselves,

Wet leaves make no noise, but

Hold tears of lost love. 

DREAM

All boxes are stacked.  

It takes so much time to get

All boxes with different colors

To carry voices across road to sky,

It has to take plan on the way,

To make the big blue glide in

Loving touches of inspiration

To walk forward, into lyrics of mind.

Motive ventures for activity.

Your room filled with trajectory

Of light, and you like to travel

With wings, prizes are seldom won.

I photographed a few boxes

Those are painted with exploring

Cascade of dream, on the track,

I move almost silently. 

HAIKU

I follow shadow,

Blossom is great, long is life,

I forget its tonnage.   

HAIKU

http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.in/2016/09/short-story-slam-week-52-family.html

Reader reads,

Knowledge to conquer mind

Resolves social life. 

Short story slam week 52: READING

I never go out with my son

When he was child, because

Finance did not permit that situation,

King is mind, saint is not my attitude.

Now I do not go out with my grandson,

It is not that finance is not felt enough

For that scope, it is still in scarcity.

Mind has a motive, I can afford it.

I discover that my grandson is waiting for

Something new, reading, writing and playing,

His young mind can marry prized motive

That can spread life like a small butterfly,

And make acquaintance with all basics

Those can bloom with creativity for new world,

But I cannot do that, his parents think

Reading, writing, playing can flourish in curriculum.

I fear trails and tails of that young mind

May travel in barbed fence, and the world

Will see a general view of that custody,

Which preserves obedience to the king.