LOVE FOR THE NEW YEAR 2017

She spends time in making herself softer

In every move and breathing by learning,

Transforming, perfecting, controlling self,

Through coverage of web idols, blushing

Her beautiful, in sweet lips, in soft voice,

To be more beautiful, more attractive,

Responding to silence, to fill up space

With desire, the nature has created it

Through its charms and warmth,

She thinks she is not wrong on her grace.

She finds a listener many years walking

On snow, across a binding stretch, and

He can record all in dreaming, desiring,

Yet fails to display everything matching to

Her wishes, portraying as distant person,

Although having lovely expression, as

Chatting on social webs-sites does not imprint

Walking along virtual space over real stream,

Making her determined to walk along

For more interactions in the New Year sunlight. 

DISPOSABLE MAN

My living standard is deteriorated gradually,

All favorite usable entities like electricity, internet, etc.

Are becoming costlier day by day and

I have to drop all of them from my usage

To go back to the land of marooned compostable,

I see that some people are enjoying them desperately.

Tricky measure comes forward to think about it,

So that I may engage whole time with this trick,

Edibles like fish, pork, mutton, chicken, vegetable,

As if, those are getting compostable, to me, in price tag,

As if I am not washable person, preserved to be disposable,

I see that some people are enjoying them desperately.

Am I one oversized man? Am I one odd man in intricacies?

Terrible situation over my head to look into

I have done nothing yet my path is complicated,

Neither a middleman, nor a grouping man,

Nor throng into violent species, yet I am treated

As disposable in this world of equal sharing resources.

My eyes get wide when I hear someone takes cake

With hot coffee, lunch with fish fingers, hot mutton curry,

I then open my window and see I have had once of

These edibles, my income was low with low price index,

Now I turn to bones, with low income, with high price index,

Only imagination, I live, someone exists lower to my income.

On otherness reality, I live; garbage plastic pickers are also living,

Without dole, without home, without mantra, only on struggling.

Beautiful earth, motherland, expectation, reluctance, swirling

Around every life, I am not so lucky to enjoy natural things,

Only walking through clouds, forget to observe inner beauty,

Deep breathing exults over burning smoke, satire to creativity.

LOVELY DECEMBER

This morning, flowers make room for merriment,

No glass filter tantalizes dream in this moment,

Everyone thinks of love, pleasing guideline prevails,

No need of wailing, we try to clean up blot-entails.

Paddy corn grows golden, ripened for harvesting,

Words for humane values, erasing differences within,

Taking lovely December to dismantle worrisome masks,

You know what humane canvas looks like, in Merry Christmas.

Pous Utsava, a dream festival of Bengal comes every year

In VISVA BHARATI, a central university campus,

Founded by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore,

A colorful rural carnival blazons with multicultural ambiance.

How the earth takes blisters around its surface,

Without falling apart from its rotational gravity,

It can walk with petroleum burns, disastrous spots

Those are once hurling so many volcanoes from origin,

Atmosphere being bottom of carbon dioxide in the sun,

Blue becomes abysmal of illogical land space of tantrum,

Every time we come near extinction, yet we attend

The source of energetic breathing, and accumulate life span.  

Time gathers no dust; dream does not hold self-destruction,

We learn weeping by birth; the sun makes us enigmatic, to

Know the truth, even if we are maligned by our own faults,

We learn walking from where center of gravity teaches us balancing.   

LOVING ATTITUDE

I cannot stand so high, after

Waking up in every morning,

In dream or in open eyes,

In gravity, in sunlight,

Like this coconut tree

As if it is coming from

Different planet in sense

That it always opens leaves

Like an umbrella, celestial rescuer,

Paying nothing to masters of locality.

Words, sand particles, mists -

All are like wavering systems

Around our dormitory, where

Buying and selling need voice

Of punctuality, errorless depiction,

For those who are not concern

With time, life, steadiness while walking.

I cannot touch your head,

Cannot meet your eyes,

Cannot adjust with your height,

It is like semblance of settling

With one integration having with us

In the nature of earth’s possession,

I have to learn how to brewing up

In silent loving attitude, standing alone.

BELIEF OF LOVE

This shadowy pond, with water glass in mist of long years,

For me, image of two fishes reminds golden time of the past,

One dancing around other one, becoming of touching wave,

Sign of love, now sigh of poor mind that bears emptiness,

Over woes of reminiscence towards corner of my heart,

Blue hue picture with closed episode, endless search in bosom.

Last morning one bird came in there guided by UFO for surfing

On water, in the universe of loving zone, yet to know it,

I just make one thwarting mistake by pelting pebbles in wave,

Strong enough for waves not to hold that bird’s chirping of

Its loving bosom, it did not create pride to acquire its heart,

Paradise and justice are not stony pebbles in belief of love.   

FAKE LOVE

While the bird sits in hazards beside the pond water,

I forget to take it as a real bird, and it seems to me

it is a fake or toy bird. And I look at it if it can bring

my loved one amidst so many well conversed minds around

the hilarious sediments, hard to find real one.

I cannot be lucky one to have one such real loving

and colorful bird to appear in my defense to save me being falling

from lost love that I am pertaining so many years to live in,

yet to feel it in my body and mind. It is like ominous jolt in my life.

And I am living so many years in fruitless sincerity of my loved one

who is now a pilgrimage to become sediment of nothingness,

can easily discard me as abandoned one.

Even I cannot detect my faults in light of my long-term loved eyes.

                           

Still pond-water gathers weeds; its vicinity gathers garbage.

This unknown bird sitting coolly there surely has some visions

for next flying with love that may not suit me.

Oh lo and behold, exigencies sometimes required in dream. 

REMEMBERING THE PAST

Time comes when persons do not learn much about universe, and start speaking much about it in the public place. If this image makes me to speak about the garden, I say one miracle of life that began wedding corona thirty five years ago while standing in this grove which is like Markarian 335. The stem dreams, droops, from ground to the sky.

Time comes when persons do not know about life and hardship, and start preaching, sentencing and remodeling everything in tandem. And I remember the time when I began my first life in the act of gardening, an easy greenery dream, preparing for the sun, the moon and seasons to live in.  Maybe I dreamed that time the courage to turn everything in my favor with my partner. The garden then was once mirror of life and unknowable events.

Time comes when persons do not know about walking on air, and start walking like rose petals swinging into air and travelling into sky’s skirmishes. Yellow leaves just bent to the earth with eventuality to mingle with crust that is final with terminal name. Now it is time to leave strangeness of this garden, when new stem starts to shoot transcription into light of the sky, violently needed for another journey. You cannot hear the sound the spiraling of earth, the music and the emancipation.

Winter morning

Dazzling stem of tender leave,

Emblazoned sky.