The wind of spring that touching me May have touched you. We are strangers to each our selves But I dream few moments with you. The serenity of this Sunday morn Deepening the solitary of mine As we thrive on our aspirations Living on different sides of the road.
First poem of 2018
Coldness of the night middle Defining the blue silence holds. lluminating yellow of headlights Scaling the road, returning, to abode. I wrap self in scattered street lights To fathom the solitariness of mine-- Amongst all others.
November. Back in 2016, I had registered to WordPress to write a blog. But, like my other forgotten blog accounts this I had abandoned after writing an essay and keeping it aside not posting 'til a few weeks later. My first post here was on 27th. I'll share that poem on that day again, so let it … Continue reading Inside the Eleven
হাওয়ায় মিশছে হলুদ পাতা (গাছেদের) নতুন প্রেমের গল্পর শুরু হবে কিনা সময় জানে শহর এখন ব্যস্ত, নতুন ঋতুর জন্য, হেমন্তের রোদ্দুরে সাজছে সে, তার জন্যে। Yellow leaves has mixed with breeze New love will bloom or not Time knows that. City is busy, for new season, In autumnal sun getting decorated, For that.
1. Deep down where the heart rhythm Words taking their birth. The melancholic tune finding a note To be on the sheet music. 2. My old beloved Kolkata shrouding in The young autumn mist. Parapet of cornices bordered by the-- Misty crescent moonlight. 3. Brokenness of the promises splintered Waiting to get scattered. Black of … Continue reading Saudade II
Mist shrouded halogen lights City coming to static pacific. Another city underneath whispers-- Life conceived and nurtured here. Another city glossier (than former) Remain awake sipping the luxury-- From the chalice they call life. Mirror never lie except at this-- High storied reflects dark. Another mock another Lives imitates lives. Sangbad Gratitude