SILVER SWAN

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Short story slam week 49, July 21---August 7, 2016, Silver Swan poetic stories of romance and mystery

I want to be happy,

After a long simmering wave in the day,

A stress put into body and mind,

I want to be proud and

Happy, clearing stench air,

Leaving surges of invisible necessities,

Paving into a dreaming silver lake, with

Eyes dipped into loving galaxy,  

Like fairy lady looking at morning lights,

In blue joy, with white swans.

O fairy lady, come with coolness,

And take me to the world, where

Riddle of worldly affair disappears,

Far away from this warring zone,

I want to live, with caring aroma, at

A fantastic land where cool lake and

Fairy garden form rhythm in swimming,

Not forming a suffocating nebula,

But to move like a brave swan around a

Dreaming lady playing with loving blossoms,

And I can be free with a vision for a long time

More than what I am enjoying

When I was in an earthly dream,

This journey will raise a name of love.

Short story slam week 48, Indians are good folks! - I AM NOT ANOTHER PERSON

A fairy lady beauty spread out a falcon in one hand and stood on the path of dreaming.

I came upon her way and she asked me, “Wait!”  It was awesome, and her eyes are marvelously fixed deep into a location imagined to be a city. Her adoring attitude and beauty supposed to touch love and beauty to steal my heart. And she said, “You all live at places those carry broken modules, blinded with overspreading loneliness. I come here to convince you, life is hopeful, Love is not bubbled out.” It seemed to me, I was just standing before the city gate. And she offered me a falcon that can rule the awkward birds those forgot to establish love in the kingdom, where mirror is money. Trees are there, but flowers are popcorn.

I looked at the bottom, dropped my views, signaled for nothingness. I am not equal to that task.

I woke up and looked for her all around, and it seemed nothing had happened. It is a dreaming balm. I am not another person.

The moon embraces

The night sky. Expectation

Does not turn eyes

Into madness as it is yours,

Not theirs. Learn gladness for all.        

Short story slam week 46: escape, June 9--June 26, 2016: ESCAPE

I love a good fortune

A sweet memo of much acclaimed route

For next alleviation,

I make dominant prayers

And I make some impressions, 

Dogs come in the way of reflections.

And dogs unfairly takes up assets,

Regularly they send gifts loaded with whims,

Their hairy skins choose demanding stakes at random,

I do not want this predominant assault,

Escape is then a prediction,

I want right’s reality or termination instead.

BOU BHAAT

BouBhaat, conventional Bengali wedding ritual, 

On second day of marriage, groom's family arranges  

a dish with Rice, Ghee, Vegetable-curry,  

Fish curry, on a Kansa Thali along with  

Curd and Sweets, All are at visible and  

functional way followed by a reception party.  

The groom offers this Thali to bride, saying that 

he will take responsibility of maintaining 

the bride's all needs of life, including saris 

To wear for whole life of staying together in the family. 

A familiar way of showing love and responsibility. 

Rice, Ghee, Fish Curry,  

Curd, Sweets, on a Kansa Thali, 

Foods for bride, image  

Of life, groom offers it to her 

With promises, rhythm, love. 

This delicious food, 

On wedding day to honor 

His bride in family,  

He calls  the day their own  

How careful he would be.    

LONELINESS

Short story slam week 39, the children's place, toys, games, puzzles, and cartoon books, TOY-SHOP

TOY-SHOP

I am not that boy

Who always wants to buy,

I am that boy

Who wants to bring

Smiling, again and

Again in the sense of

Joy, watching

Toy-selling shop,

To follow teacher’s

Saying, “Do not mess.”

I am that boy

Who always wants

To avoid lure

That comes ahead

Of every shadow

Of toy’s display,

Yet I want one toy

That has a story

That can say

Truth that is

Dramatic always.

VALENTINE’S DAY, 14TH FEBRUARY, 2016-SENIOR CITIZENS

It is sea beach at Puri,

We are six friends

All are between 64 and 72 years of age.

Vertical sunlight floods the sea,

Reflection makes plunging image

Of emerging outstretched loving arm,

The glimpse of clear morning,

We sink into traverses of cosmic life,

And feel past reminiscence of

Secrets of youth time in deep sea,

And generate loving memories

With our wives, when individual

Tour occurred with songs of love

And embrace of wife,

In our arms, in golden flying

In love and ambition, like parallel

Musical notes of the sea,

Under the harmonious sky,

Beyond buildings’ work-shades,

Spreading blue hue in body and mind.

2

Subodh-da guides how to cook food

For us, because he loves and

Feels good in cooking,

Along with Bikash and Tushar,

Who are energetic to lead the team.

Chinmoy-da gets some

Old age ailments on body and mind,

Arun has strong mind, with some ailments.

I am the guest and visitor and

Come down with them to make

A charming shift of their endeavor.

All of them put some guts

On their lives and I am impressed

With their designs of management

That involves into their lives’ going

For forward journey to locate a leaf

On the sea wave, for last settlement

With wave and sojourn on sands,

To mark footprints across the sea beach

Those cannot be washed away, but remembered.  

YOUNGER SISTER (In commemoration of my younger sister)

The moment this embroidery Kantha stitch came before my eyes,

It comes to my mind it was once shown to me when my sister was alive.

So many years she passed away, my poor younger sister, I never

Forget her, and for so many divergent works, she performed,

Either in parent’s house, or in her husband’s house,

She became curators of all happenings around her, and we

are mare observers on her destiny, leaving behind one daughter

And one son, who are perhaps suffered harsh terms of living

With life, in their father’s home of loneliness. 

I get hurt at every event she suffers,

Introduced one lie, about her death,

I believe something; do not believe many things,

She is no more, but covers surroundings,

In my mind she is an idol of sorrow,

And for that I roam places of

Importance where she moved while alive,

Only seemingly feeling of missing links arrives,

I do not want to hear it, and leave the place,

This homemade Jessor Kantha embroidery makes me

Remember, catastrophically remember this world

Lonely and nostalgically evidence of my younger sister’s past

And present latitude of message of her pain stitched.

VILLAGE IN AUTUMN (TANKA)

1.

In autumn morning,

Village path, vibrant sunlight,

Dancing with mist,

Symphony everywhere,

Euphoria with time and rhyme

2.

My mind goes with scene

Nature speaks with words and mists

Sunlight in delight,

Mind dances with freshness of

Rising sun and morning shine. 

WATERY PATHWAY

Vision unbound in harbor passage,  

Water responsive from dream spot,

Too vast for a voyage, we begin,  

Quest starts back from school days.

This December my attempt starts

From street, from rout chart enigmas

One way, crossing it by steamer

The river gets elongated fiesta in port.

A singing motion, envisioned catharsis,

Shrills of walking on mud, sediments,

Salty taste of water, are stages with

Thrills and penance, vision is charm.

On the journey, we reach nearer to

Deep whims and sacrifice of existence,

Our foot prints and home are presents,

All attempts in reality carry our dream.

  

SINGING OF WATER

RIVER, OH RIVER a poem by Asim Kumar Paul

HAIKU

Night, fog and lens,

River, greens, light, coolness,

Civilization.

TANKA

White morning mist cuffs

Hands of nature’s cycle,

Harvesting time,

Red sun peeps on paddy field,

Emptiness filled with love.  

Classical Vocal Omkar Dadarkar at Kharagpur

NEW TOWN

I walk to the construction site

Soil is prepared, r.c. column tries to grab the sky,

Rubbish, building materials scattered everywhere,

Metro railway on the foreground with sidewalls,

Buildings crab to get architectural beauty,

That fits to the new town’s appearance.

I want to search lost field’s greenery,

It is bounded with fencing at some places,

Either it is a mall premises or lawn to sit-and-eat,

Having one big sign-board, “Multi Cuisine Restaurant”,

Cosmopolitan town just takes the shape,

And sign of purposeful commercial intent,

Living here is a boast for those who can afford price,

Cemented whims is established with no grudge,

We need not think of the past, exposure is there

Just to walk beside the glimpse, edge of dream.  

BETWEEN TWO ROADS

I walked too often to find roots

Of quiet place – away from home

And many times, I am plunged

Between two roads, striding away

In a long and strenuous journey.

Instead, I have to wash away dream

From my mind, dry pathway makes

Me frustrated, restraining me from

This wild journey, and excesses

Have been done upon my mind,

Sweet home is the prince,

Filling peace in everyone’s mind,

Rescuers are not at red soil or metallic road.

From daybreak to evening,

I learnt to stay at home, even if

I am dried out with thirst

Or melt in agony, none has loving tongue.

TANKA

Narrow stream

Riverbed almost dry

People’s plunder

Down to flowing of water

They place pieces of bones. 

FLOWER

See those small flowers in the garden,

Whose blooming has pride to molten

Aggrieved mind with enshrined chants

To resume work for life, tearing wrenched

Fragrance of strained mind, to see abode

Of life’s journey with love and innocence. 

Short story slam week 32: Unexpectedness

image credit: http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.in/

His mystic appearance is mystery again,

And wings appear preparedness very much,

Classic forbearance dominates edge of

Entertainment, without disgust or pity,

It tells something, scatters humor, and

Background is filled with argument of the unexpected.

When observance wane solitude,

Situation turns into merriment,

With signs and wonders of cosmic change,

Children love it to play with this outline of drawing.

This lends something believing love has no ending

With proceedings of creation that recreates it every time.