A Black Hope.

Pic Courtsey: Internet

In memory of 11th July, 2006 Train Bombings...26/11 ....German Bakery Blast...12th July, 2011 Mumbai Blasts....those who gave their lives unnecessarily...Ankik Da....Anindyee...and soo many young lives that blew out in that strong wind of violence... and hatred.

There was light...once...long ago...
and there were beliefs
There were smiles which turned into cries..
humans stabbed...killed and torn.
and 'sighs'.

Little dreams shattered..hacked and murdered...
Will you stand among the corpse and sympathize?
Will you even drop a tear...
or just 'sigh' and move on.

Denial...Will your sons and daughters know what you did??
Or will they lie in the heap of lifelessness..
while you smile and shake hands with evil
and smear your hand with bloods...
which was once yours???

I can see a white flag flying high...
drenched in sweat...
with stains of blood..
turned black.

God Bless You.

Stray Truth

Pic Courtsey: Internet


And i dream still...
dream a bit more..
dream of days..
when i used
to dream to dream.

With eyes full of hope,
trying to find god who made man.
Trying to preserve the innocence,
the sacrosanctic beliefs
of being god's son.

And now we...sons of god..
are torn to pieces...blasted and tattered...
in vengeance and hatred..

Now, I'm trying to find..
Does God Cry?

For Eva.

This poem is dedicated to Eva Cassidy. The wonderful Singer who won millions of hearts with her beautiful voice. She made her last public appearance on September,1996. The Last Song she sang that day was the famous "What a wonderful world" by louis Armstrong. She died of Cancer two months after the show, on 2nd November,1996.This poem is also dedicated to all those wonderful people who are fighting with cancer today. Our prayers are with you.

I see trees that are green, red roses too
I watch them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of the people passing by
I see friends shaking hands, saying, "how do you do?"
But they're really saying, "I love you".




She stood on the stage
the spotlight was on her..
a long dark tunnel
and the faint light wasnt far.

She stood behind the microphone,
and held her guitar tight.
She saw them all smiling at her..
it was her last night.

She had struggled with the dark
she was lean and weak now,
the doctor said, she shouldnt sing,
but she got the strength somehow.

she filled the evening with her lovely voice,
with "songbird" and "way beyond the blue".
She showered bliss from heaven that day...
each moment was as fresh as dew.

And then she closed her final show,
with a smile and tear in her eye.
Not because she wont be there for long...
but she had to "say goodbye"....

The Skull & Bone

Yet another attempt to write a shape poetry.

Please Click on the image to See a Proper Englarge View. (Sorry for the inconvenience)

A Cinquain, a Haiku and a Monostich.

Pic. Courtesy: Internet

The Cinquain

Faces.
Halogen nights
A whisper in the wind
The silent city seduces
Good Night.


The Haiku

Continuously
It rained and drained memories.
Mesonoxian.


The Monostich

I bibble a hasenpfeffer with a dangwallet daedalist on nudiustertian.

Sometimes.

Picture Courtesy : Internet

Sometimes I feel
I'm disintegrating..
parts of me flying away
like dandelions..
they carry me to distant places.

Sometimes..I smile..
to myself and to the passerby,
who smiles back at me.
I laugh..at the clock,
who ticks so patiently..
for hours...days and nights.

Sometimes I look at the sky
and I see the bright red sun..
and then it comes down on the forehead.
of the young girl who lived
near my house.

Sometimes I walk on a dark road..
and I feel the shadows taking shape..
and walking beside me,
"Hullo there...Long time..
how've you been ???"
and I smile and walk.

Sometimes the halogens becomes faces..
and they call me..
"No, my dear friend...
I've a long way to go..
maybe some other day I'll join you."

Sometimes I get tired..
and I want to rest myself for a while..

Sometimes I feel like god..I create..
but I fail to put life in them...

Sometimes...I write my heart out..
and my poems have a meaning.