ANXIOUS JOURNEY

She is new in this journey

This time she has to return home

She falls in anxious waiting when

Her eyes has caught a moving bus

That she longs to get ride on

To go to the railway station,

That connects to her home station,

But the bus does not stop at stand,

And she becomes annoyed and

Ridiculed at this pattern of stumble

Over bus, that is playing on stance. 

Commuters stand cool over time

Their bus-routs are known and when

The scheduled bus comes

They get on board, as destined to,

And reach home sooner or later.

She sees buses running with haste

Lifting passengers in rush,

Grasping moments,

Light and shadow point towards time,

Somehow to reach home,

All time in hurry.

SINGING OF RAIN

First rain drifted over the land of cultivation,

This time it lays an emphatic shower for

A green blanket stretched to horizon,

Water makes lotus seeds sprout, and fills all

Nearby ditches with water, to the brim,

Lotus stem holds leaf floating,

Making them get bloomed on water-island.

Farmers start tilting mud on paddy field,

As if light reflected on water drops in cloud

To form green light passing through

Prism of life that carries singing of life,

What journey is is for life’s turn,

Meaning to go on to possess long wing,

Ahead of our dreams, to live with food grains. 

WALKING ALONE

No, she does not want to walk with me

As her attempts finds no categorical stand for her in me.

At her every turn, there is construction, she finds

No model persona in me, at least partly to follow. 

She wants to walk alone, ignoring my presence,

Her mind blooms to find the nature of modernization, walking

Along the road that is busy, dream is still there where

We are destined to live in never-ending-township tossing. 

NOTES FROM WHITE CLOUD

Cloud, which I want to shift

Layer by layer

To our sky at behest of root

Of our mind

To travel along blue horizon,

With my hands

To live as if it is our shelter

Beyond houses below

As if white mountain there

Takes us above the sky

Stars are nearer

Dreams are close to reality

Getting close to

Sunrays, full dominion

Celestial events drawn close

Into our touch for sure,

Myths do not lure anymore.  

CLOUD AND KRISHNACHURA

Krishnachura no longer in the firmament

At summer’s ending with cloud’s hovering,

Yet little bunches of red asylum still prevails,

Like taking a little flight at the grace of longing,

Let summer welcome rainy season’s vow.

Mind is open to greet rain, and rain waits to wet

Roots of tree that may give blooming more red

In space of the blue and the red in connoisseurs

Of life’s travel through the nature - lighting and breathing,

That we like to have with silver and diamond rewarding.

This music in a string, visual presence shows grand

As lore of mother earth we hear beside our stand

The pleasant melody filling our existence within,

A cluster of cloud splendor of white screening

With redness in mind to greet new season’s dreaming. 

WONDERFUL CLOUD

These clouds come out from the water of the earth,

They have thoroughfare, as programmed in air-path,

Tossed like tottered walks, yet firm with whitewash,

Making jewel of hovering water, quenching our thirst.

The blue has got the heart to hold them at far,

There they do move in freedom of mind we do search,

Here we upon the earth see their moment of purge

Forming water bubbles, to pour in ponds, tulip and 

Rivers and bodies of the earth, we see through window,

Falling of rain, daisies of life, that we soak in mind,

In dream of life, new life, dwell with founding terms,

Those we build in our source of diamond murmurs. 

THIS CLOUD

This cloud reminds me

When I was in my childhood,

Mother said I was young

To know the world,

Sometimes it is playful

Sometimes it is hurtful

Sometimes it is soothing,

Sometimes it is benign,

But many times it is bliss.

Cloud makes us turn to look

At the life’s vision,

Leading to a standard life,

That is amused with time,

For that reason we do well

And we feel tenderness of blessing

When cloud bursts into rain,

And the world rejoice

With all that it holds on surface.

CLOUD

You are more volatile than summer persists

And so is our breathing, then in heavy rain,

Wet blanket covers sea of warm house-boxes,

Green turns greener, clouds pull coolness,

I am enjoying view of sublime, hovering clouds. 

POETRY ALBUM BRACING THE SPINE

Cover page of my 4th self-published poetry book

After returning from hospital

She once said

“I cannot approach for death,

I have just to return to my life.”

Then she goes for taking rest

She goes with start to cry

That she has lost such vigor

All her recognition violated.

All her thirty two years of marriage

All her generation thinking

All her work for home and husband

Lying on cinder of unwanted invaders.

“I do not want to flee,

And tell all invaders that

Sanctity of my bedroom not to be violated

System of my kitchen room not to be rubbished.”

All her wishes are dismissed

In the firmament of generation wilderness

Liking of elderly generation’s work still moribund

Yet she lives with pains.

Poet Kapardeli Eftichia has translated the poem POETRY ALBUM BRACING THE SPINE in Greek 

TANKA

April clouds, small, white,

These come as Kalbaisakhi storm.

From life’s journey,

She learns small to be cared of,

Like kidney stone, endless owe.

THE CRESCENT MOON

At the sun-set time,

My mind imparts with woes of life,

That begins with surgery

For removing stone

From kidney of my wife,

And after one month

Another surgery to be done

For extracting stone from her gallbladder,

And she bears pain

I grieve to her suffering.

My mind changes time to time,

As if some stones are solid with sadness,

I look at the evening sky,

The crescent moon glancing at me violently,

While it is cool with its black and white smiling,

Whispers of love cannot hold humors,

And we are toys of heavenly purposes.

Many times I tried to explain the situation,

Every time I feel loneliness, with pains for her.

She sits in a chair; I am the man on the doorway,

I cannot make her life comfortable,

Others are sitting at the other side of glass,

Thirty two years of married life move to a risk,

The crescent moon is changeable to a full moon,

We are not changeable like the moon,

Colors of the twilight sky may change to crimson red,

We are not hopeful for changes, again we are hopeful. 

TANKA

Little clouds hover in

Morning sunlight in the sky,

April on the trip,

On health purpose, wide journey

Begins with fruit, food and water.

THE NEGLECT

She is in the hospital bed

She drinks green-coconut-water

Stones just removed from her kidney.

The surgeon enquired

Whether she took plenty of water,

And moderate food.

She was alone at home

With her grandson,

When parents of little one

Are at their working zone,

She finds no time

To take care of her body and mind.

She forgets to sing, she forgets to look,

She forgets to mingle, she forgets to

Emotionally respond to nutrition.

She falls to nature’s retaliation

She is at her faults,

Stones formed in kidney and in gallbladder.

And the worst has been done

She is at loss of strength,

Very organic formation.

Surgery is done; caught in loneliness,

Her random speed has been broken,

Harvesting moon has no promises in her eyes. 

TANKA

On a spring morning,

Illness brings tiredness still

After surgery

To extricate kidney-stone,

Confidence lets her sit upon. 

NEW POEM

WINTER MORNING

In a winter morning sun-rays begin its realm

In the world that begins to wake up workforce.  

Road is busy with crowded frequencies,

People move with articles purchased,

Either on bi-cycles or on hand-pulled rickshaws,

In spirit, enthusiasm, welcoming day’s beginning,

As monumental surprises warmth surrounding,

For shaking off lazy dreams,

And for utilizing day’s time and assigning.

Looking at scene, I feel cooling breeze

Making another kind of sizzles

A prominent part of an anthology

That presents full and colored events

Those are to locate or relocate one’s presence,

Benefits and priorities

According to one’s demand, and perception.

In the wonder of sunlight people enjoy working delight.
-------

Making of a new poem: Destiny,
http://asimkumarpaul.wordpress.com/2013/09/22/destiny/

====

ORIGINAL POEM

http://asimkumarpaul.blogspot.in/2013/06/senior-citizen-2.html

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ORIGINAL POEM 

http://asimkumarpaul.blogspot.in/2013/09/broken-doors_1977.html

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Availability of my books 

SCHOOL

First school leaving certificate

Before first entry to graduation level

Started forty seven years back

For paving in life and patronage,

Life starts at this new stage,

Memories now famous to remember.

Standing before my school

Memories fall behind books

To form another chapter

Infinite movement into time

That forms another book to read.

Remember, remember

The high school that is simple

That stands before me as symbol

That swirls in mind like flower

That I hold aloft in its fragrance

For acquiring vision that I hold still.

 I salute the institution

With a hand that still writes bold

Decisions and resembles the achievement

That I still carry with me

Like processions of life’s journey

In the enigma of stepping forward.

After forty seven year

I am standing here to see the school,

Its endless revision in mind

Gives me feeling of past revelations

That I made in my teens

While I was here to accumulate hugeness. 


Note: Picture of Tamluk High School, Tamluk, West Bengal, India. 

TANKA

The ancient palace,

Dilapidated remains,

Streaked with dust,

Commuters stand to think -

Amazing royals of the past. 

Note: Picture of remains of Tamluk Rajbari (King’s palace

          Of Tamluk, West Bengal, INDIA). Shot taken on

          02.02.2014.

THE CRYING CHILD

Sound sleeping

The toddler does need it,

In early speaking ability,

He only says, “Mother! Come.”

So that in tandem the baby

Wants to sway with love

The passing of the night,

Sleeping with mother’s caring.

Lovely goes his spirit

And hunts for sleeping,

He wants to be with mother,

In the making of myth of love,

That the child does like to be with

The big organized way of mother's sincerity,

The sentiment of life, in mother’s embrace

And everything of beats of life

The speaking of the baby is heading

With joy on the way of love’s train,

Sleeping with mother.

Under the marathon of busy hours

And service work, the mother

Manages for duty and for her rest,

And brings everything in little gust

Of burning sleeve of tiredness,

Since she moves with languished feeling,

The child’s sleeping scope

Gives mother haste

To finish her workload, and

She just tries to find time,

To come with the toddler,

And in the mean time, it is amazed,

The mechanism has been changed,

And the child starts crying.

CHILD’S CHOICE, IGNORED

She returns home with haste

Stops for her little son

And makes him prepare

For the journey,

She has no time to listen

To her child who has

Something good in his mindset,

The child has own choice

For shoes and sweater to wear

In winter, while

He is going out,

And he utters, “Other one”

He is yet to speak in full.

The child cries with bursts,

Holding his choices - shoes

And sweater to wear

In mother’s company,

She had no time to attend

Child’s untold feeling,

And she fakes his choice

Stuffs a mother’s choice,

Jumps into hasty move,

Avoiding crying of child,

And lifts the kid

Like a colored balloon,

In her lap, and the child

Crying profusely,

Still holding his shoes

In one hand and sweater

In other hand, and keeps

Them under his care

Not knowing the secret

Of his mother’s apathy,

And his mother says,

“We are in a hurry,

Time to catch bus is going out.”

The child don’t understand,

What mother is saying about,

Crying profusely, he throws

All he holds in his tiny hands,

Slumped on the hard concrete floor.

WHISPERS TO GOD

The child is feeble

His eyes go deep into face,

Yet he eats, dances, moves,

Cries, smiles, the red face

Looks pale when he baths,

Mother says his structure

Is so, and she messages cream

To remove his paleness,

I only pray to God, Lord,

Please keep the child moving,

You love him,

You care him,

I am an onlooker,

And if I put advice

I fear my eyes will

Be blinded forthwith,

And my mind cries

On my helplessness

As the world is for theirs,

My old age burns are

All fake to them,

Other relations are nothing,

And I do not put my finger

Into the fire,

That will kill my whole essence

And the child will remain

In their whims, and child lives in pains.

I whisper to the world

God may hear my words.