Subrata Ray Poems

Poetry is bubbles of images,
As faces come and go,
The poets are arrowed by Cupid,
Or God's glorious glow.
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The fresh shower from land of love,
If once makes your lease monsoon,
And by miraculous device stirs tsunami,
Your memory's home would dissolve into water,
...

With the departure of all affirmations,
Fake reality of weather -mirage,
The intended, he, she, and it,
And experiences of undeserved negations,
You turn a free desert!
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My Blue Butterfly.

Down and down,
Through the chasm,
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Dearest, - the glimpse of my discovered soul’s anchor,
You are not the maiden beauty of flesh and blood,
But, -a transparent lake of fresh bath, of my aching heart,
Earthly radioactive plus, and divine grain’s flux!
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The damsel Sale Roll,
Wished a hound -sprang panther,
She took him under.
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The trends of gorgons,
From Greek to Modern go on,
And desert hearts seek oasis,
The vital trance of Medusa’ kiss.
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Placid, lucid, shrine,
Reflects sublimated dumb,
As if the rays of liquid the sun runs.
...

.

His Highness needs a room to seat,
Feels the Sun, and wishes to remake its fortune,
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The 3rd One's Hand In Love.

The stony hungry home,
Bereft of minion there,
...