Thoughts of Words

Hold Your Step Dear Traveler…–Michael Madhusudan Dutta

  • April 25, 2022

    National Poem Writing Month ’22: 25. Clasp of Life (or Is it Dream?)

    Standing on the shore, the sail of life hazed at after-storm calm sea. The wet grains slipped when we hold each other clasp. You, she, were pointing beyond the ship, beyond the horizon but why should I pay heed to you. Storm ascending gulping the North Star. Again. Directionless I am. She smiled or is […]

  • April 24, 2022

    National Poem Writing Month ’22: Have You Ever Traversed Summer That Compete Kalahari Desert?

    Approaching noon is yellow like of Wordsworth’s daffodils. The dogs of the neighborhood looking for shelter Coming in terms with the cats living in shady corners. The sky is burnt in the coal mud-oven of the teashop. Weather officials has declared of an showery evening; Their prediction pricks the ears as heated roof on barefoot. […]

  • April 23, 2022

    National Poem Writing Month ’22: 23. Yellow

    Jay Bhawani and Pelhu flashed. Death, if, has memory will remember the yellow flash guise in silky scarf. Beware Of stranger on path of travel. Jay Bhawani and Noose is on. –cc– Note: Pelhu or Pilhoo was the murder weapon used by Thugs to strangle their victim or target

  • April 22, 2022

    National Poem Writing Month ’22: 22. Guest

    Knock! Knock! Knock! Who’s it is? I whispered. Knock!Knock! Knock! Knock! Who’s it is? I raised voice. Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Silence of night silently spoke. The night was different. The night treasures quietitude and hush; The nocturnal birds and bugs are (also) hush. Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! I gulped the identity […]

  • April 21, 2022

    National Poem Writing Month ’22: 20. Mon Ami…

    The river, we imagine life as thus, was summer ones as those days were to us. The city used to be battlefield as we traverse and conquered one after another territory. We were the musketeers without a third one. Slowly the banks ate up by the river. We depart promising nothing. Hope we hold naively; […]

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