RAINDROPS TELL ME (HAIKU)

Raindrops tell me

In the night, it is an image

Of soaked green mind.

FLYING IN THE SKY

Airplane has no dream; it can fly like a bird,

It has style, it has machine,

Man creates machine, and flies in it.

It is visible as man thinks it has that home,

Because man has dream to have picture

Of that flying in the sky, children express

Joy seeing it in the sky and photographers

Take snap of it, for advertisement and

For showing contest in their skill and beauty

How to have something to love and enjoy

Over the boardroom of our creative whims

Growing on learning for life and own form

To perform and manage how it becomes

The best vehicle to travel on the best way,

No nervousness does come, at least for

The time, in transit over colorful screen.

LONESOME WILL FOR SURVIVAL

The man with age of 70 years, being incapable of walking

From his childhood, gets an occasion of speaking for himself

That is all he has to tell about, in flash of glittering of his eyes.

He is still energetic; mentally he behaves as an epic sheet

Of life, with thought to sweep over excursion of leading voice,

I become poignant to his appearance of determination.

His teeth are strong, utterance superior to anyone in the town,

And tones of voice brilliant to hear and sort of dominance,

“I have struggled much, mistakes are there, yet I survive.”

As if all words are an anthology of poetic prominence,

We have to hear him, nostalgic he is sometimes, yet sublime.

He bears no complexity; poetic is his mind, the only photo

That pegged on the wall of his room is of MichaelMadhusudan Dutta,

He has tones of cutting, burning, creating of iconic salvation

And talking with him is like talking with a learned emissary

From the moon, taking the listener as his admired visitor, and he says,

“I am useless either for the society or for the familial peer, yet I survive.”

MORNING FLOWER

You have bloomed in simple raining

I watch you closely in the morning

Dripped in raindrops with smiling

Wind blowing slowly, and scare you for viewing.

You have charm that brings joy we share

You hold the beauty and sense of loving

With better living and brighter hope for smiling

That feeds me courage for next beginning. 

RAIN DROPS (TANKA)

Rain drops spill over

Leaves, the nature takes bath

And develops colors

BENGALI NEW YEAR 1422

Bengali New Year comes with breathing

Red in the April.

In blooming towards greeting

Krishnachura declares its significance

We touch our life, too passionately.

Red Krishnachura describes the glance

Towards Bengali New Year 1422, as if

It says come, enjoy the elegance

I am well in deciding vigor and happiness

It is symbol of interior design

In the nature and in our life.  

SPRING RAIN

With the day break, clouds cover the sky,

Where no sunlight comes, and heart of water

Does hover over my head when I am walking

On the roof-top of my house, and drizzles

Are pouring in all-around, it is beginning of March,

Mango flowers just begin to bloom, and

Festival of colors (Happy Holi) begins countdown to come,

Things of beauty of spring begin with Palash flower.

I raise my mind to enjoy that beauty

In cloudy sky that starts to show the earth

That has seasons with vibrant show amid pleasing

Mind’s approach, as long as

Smoothing illusion grows around mind’s journey,                                                                          

Over hard situations and we try to induct us

Into good weather, and raindrops begin falling

With speed of stormy gush, not fenced with narrowness.          

I am on the roof-top and get wet in rain

Raindrops get trapped within cornice walls

And concrete surface fails to soak water

That gets no speedy passage to go down drain,

Waters on the surface turn into a pool or sea

Where raindrops make stir to carry wave of life,

That caries running with bounces, re-bounces,

All are secrets of own songs of nature, delight.  

                                                                                                                             

BEES

Sitting near bamboo fencing of a village house

I am looking where bees are moving around.

The fencing is covered with small creeper plants,  

With flowers blooming in this spring season.

From where do these bees come? I think,

I do not find bee hive nearby or in vicinity.

How long do these bees collect honey? I think,

All the time I see bees are hovering near flowers

And collect honey for a few moments, and fly away,                                                                            

Sometimes, they sit on flowers and immediately

They fly away and this tells that honey from

Those flowers, has already been collected, I think.

Are these bees are like those are living within us?

Are these bees symmetry of our thinking? And

Are these bees composing hives of collective dream?

We are on the forefront of our living panorama here.

JOURNEY

Morning sunlight prepares

For the day, it is spring, journey

Takes leap for revelations  

Over the water, waves take

Directions of flowing, coming

Over passage of time, and journey

Begins on the platform of

Howrah Railway Station visible

In clean colors, window on touring

Space, keeping life on probable

And possible of self appearance

Where mind is open and

Fantasy is other source of living,

Slowly flowing over dreams. 

DREAM

At the time of busy hours

Every launch takes crowd

From random walks of life

Till busy corridor gets empty

Or thin crowd overboard.

The launch has that capacity

Simply for larger role that plays.

Distance is comparable to

Combining molecules those make

Cell-formation within phase to phase

Preferences, altogether we all behave,

As if drowned zeal to surface dream.

We all float from dream-bank

Where lies dream-station, waiting and

Recomposing our voyage to other bank

Across the river that portrays flowing of

Mystery of working silence on the horizon

Being it the great assimilation, moving is

Always greater than rehearsed appearance.

LOVING PHENOMENON

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.in/2015/02/hyde-park-thursday-poets-rally-week-80.html

With the changing of season

Spring coming, tiny birds are busy

At the time of new tender leaves nearby

Reflectively making presence of group touring

In the morning soft sunlight, enthusiastically.   

Do they have to be ventured in new relationship?

So that they make presence in every twittering

Contracted in brewing of loving mood

Sooner or later everyone settles in mettle 

And expresses something in reality without paradox,

Streamlined in heart beating while sitting at higher branches

Of tree, now making new green leaves, floating

Between love and notion of rolling gentleness

Following through all seasons and dreams alongside. 

MANGO FLOWER

This mango tree has magnificence in this morning,

That flowers blooming with vastness of first hand and

First track of motivation of soundless mutation for

Spotlight on the occurrence of newness in spring, and

Both activity and control of life’s dream render most

Significant sharing of events of inward journey, and

I am the witness of this swinging of earth’s canvas

With leaves and flowers, and it is neatly balanced. 

THE LITTLE BOY

When the little boy is given
New garments, he wears them
And begins running into the room,
And his parents become happy
To take snap of joyfulness
Of their son, they think once
They were little ones and so were
They joyful when they received
New clothes to wear from parents
They then did feel good and moved
Around the house to tell friends
Their parents loved them
Like other who were their friends,
The world moves with these waves
Like sea wave never ends forming wave.

A PHOTO AND A POEM

Here is a photo and a poem

THE SUBARNAREKHA

THIS ROAD

This road across the river bed

Makes me remember

Time has passage

For livelihood

For home

With sequence of events

And this river

Turns into a stream,

Again in rainy season

It turns to a monster river.

I stand at one bank and other bank

Is visible as if it is

Parallel line far away

With pillars being constructed

For a long concrete bridge

Along breadth of the river

All objects and all shadows

Just make matter motto:

Cross the river, and reduced the distance

For journey we pertain everyday

For living in busy sprain

We are facing daily like

Nailing a wooden block                                       

For building a make- shift bridge

We are walking on time and again.

The Subarnarekha stays with life and time. 

THE RIVER, SUBARNAREKHA

In one winter morning this year,

I stand upon a make-shift wooden bridge

Upon the flowing of the river, Subarnarekha,

Sunlight sparkling on waters

Light-bubbles dancing,

Looping and pulling time and tide alongside.

Moving fast with bouncing waves,

Glittering episode of life just survives with joy

Sharing and glowing with great integration.

I come here sixty years later

Of my childhood, and that time I stood here,

Played with water and sand,

And childhood memories do not mess

With present happenings, all are going

With anchor and shore,

With distance and dream,

The river Subarnarekha flowing with gleam. 

Note: This poem is written in celebrating Thursday poets Rally, Five Year Anniversary ,  Week 79, January 14 - 27, 2015, i.e. January 14, 2010 -January 14, 2015.

Hyde Park Poetry: Referring week 78: inspiration of the week (29): Singing in the rain

Hyde Park Poetry: Referring week 78: inspiration of the week (29): Singing in the rain



I like Singing in the rain at Hyde Park Poetry.



Here is another link of rain poetry:

RAIN:Poetry Album 

TANKA

Winter morning

Tourists throng to enjoy sea

Wave in this New Year

The sun hides in the cloud

To see the tide and the pride. 

IN THE WINTER SKY

In the winter sky

Fog has shadowed eyes

Airplane passes sight

HAIKU

Winter harvesting,

Paddy corn still lying in field,

Green seeds, life-cycle.         

CHILDHOOD

CHILDHOOD 

RED SUN TAKES LEAP (TANKA)

Red sun takes leap

Above horizon and hills

Greens awakening

Morning gets quantum with joy

Life is worthy, yielding pride. 

INNOCENT RAINDROPS

Wheel of the car takes raindrops with its spin

Road does resist it, innocent raindrops get tangled

Under this tension whose presence widens

Lawful curves strangled between road and wheel.

CLOUD AT AJODHYA HILLS BEFORE HUDH HUDH CYCLONE

Just a painting brush makes strokes

With dark blue color in the sky.

Grey clouds make intentional arrival in the dawn

Wind circling over sea, nine hundred miles’ away

The sky never owns darker shade in its skin

Blue is simple, beautiful in its own prettiness

Even a child can see it and sing a song of beauty

That needs not extra freshness with color shades.

It is dawn; patchy colors give some signals of storm

Crust of the earth does not reflect sunlight,

The sky needs no favor, it shows the truth.

Some enrollment of weather’s new product

Just begins hovering over either near or at far,

We will face the catastrophe, swinging in the sky

As if a painting brush paints darker

Side of the nature’s summoning.  

THE CLOUD AND THE MOON

Why the cloud feels proud to hide the moon

Upon its journey, so many past and present thrills

The moon crosses the effect, in its trilling smiles,

And slowly makes its presence in the sky’s fore front. 

THE VILLAGE ROAD (TANKA)

Village road reaches

To many rural land sites

The villager walks

In the morning sunlight

The green creates pleasing sight.

TRANSITION OF THE EARTH

While moving in a train, it comes to my view,

The front of hills, the front of greens,

The front of clouds, the sky is ready to take

Everyone in its review, the day is bright, playing

Hide and seek with sunlight, shadowy and sunny,

Visible with clarity, greeting cheers, forming

Day time dance, almost singing, birds flying,

Essence of freedom is full of sense and tense.

The day is full of caesura, lines of a verse

Window of the train becomes passage of the earth,

As if it is classic awakening, pretty wellness, arising

From the dark, we are responding with singing,

Cadence with time and travel, wondering scene,

Sprouting of joy and introduction of rain, forming

Fortune of pupil’s vigor, we are experiencing it.

This nature’s royal attire reinvented, priceless. 

THE HILL ROAD (HAIKU)

The hill road, divine,

It is curved as our life

Gliding in green hymn. 

LIGHT AND SHADOW

Light and shadow falling about yard’s apart,

The cloud and the blue make both run closer,

Cloud’s shadow falls on meadow, while we are

Passing through sunlight, wind drifts cloud,

Clearing barricades over passage of sunrays,

And we are moving in a bus in the sunlight,

Following riddles of shadow, soon after,

Carried down, creating life’s sojourn a concert.      

SHORT POEM

In the day, white clouds hover in the sky

Ajodhya Hills in silence of drowsy peers. 

SELLING OF FLOWERS

I stopped before the shop-window

It showed flowers for selling to customers

And the eminent was telling in whispers

“Come, love me, buy me, it is my pleasure.”

“You may place me upon study table,

You may place me upon the whole house

Or in your garden, with some sticks to nail me,

I will pose with my beauty, fragrance, instead.”

It is stitch of blows on the truth, motivated,

As market moves with open buckles of drove,

Living with pleasure and moving with status

The symbolic transition is author of all maestros.

THESE CHILDREN ARE GROWING IN SILVER SUNLIGHT

Autumn sun-rays play in the hill region,

Morning spreads pleasing care around,

Lightly move little children in the village,

They are enjoying in wind of soft harmony,

Birds and greens mingle in sweet singing,

Climbing papaya tree is magic with balance,

For food of the day, the boy tries to pluck

Papaya while others are looking at him.

At that time we are walking along there

Seeking some desperation to find life,

It is another sojourn over our living pattern,

We are delighted in the boy’s turn

On childhood honeying with the nature,

It becomes fairy tale in bold and free

Spin of the boy’s attempt to go forward,

These children are growing in silver sunlight.

HAIKU

The sun takes dip

Across the sky, greets lyrics

Of solar matrix 

BEAUTY OF CLOUDS

I cannot hold breaking clouds in heart.

This morning cloud breaks in beauty.

It is not aberration, but it is conglomeration,

Beauty is there where sorrow and humor

Form content of life as courageous cloud

Becoming energetic in the morning sunlight. 

A ROAD SIDE OLD TEA-SHOP

My eyes are caught

At a century-old clay rooftop

With shabby interior of a tea-shop

Standing between concrete walls of two garment-shops.

I think of the owner’s leaning and obligations

To stay at old fashioned way floating on past,

Various steps keep the owner away from

Restructuring house on tracks of renovation.

I think of the time that is present

With its truth and it does not share

The changing of this time that others follow,

It is carefree and fairy tale to remember the past. 

SHORT POEM

The moon dispenses

Complete beauty, temptation,

Imagination 

HAIKU

Autumn evening

Twilight reflection in clouds,

Street lights start flushing