Suman Kumar Das
(11/24/2013 12:39:00 AM)
Song of Seasons
When my face turns pale
Blood comes out as sweat from cell,
She extends a heavenly hand
To ‘Autumn Azure’ over sea sand,
Making me smile with stunning scene
How calm! How serene!
My body becomes pristine.
When I fear in scary night
Within four walls without light,
East windows she opens
Evil ebbs as day dawns.
In appearance of ‘Summer Sun’
What power! What living burn!
Makes me bold warrior of morn.
When my heart gets hurt
Tears brim in eyes with regret.
She stops flying cloud
Sparks lightning, then thunder sound.
But never halts ‘Rainy River’
So patient! How flows further!
Says me to stay unruffled forever.
When my conscience clashes with mind
How cool! She invites ‘Winter Wind’
To freeze all my rage and lust.
To free squalor from my chest.
Also she calls ‘Spring Sparrow’
So sweet! Its chirps alleviate my sorrow.
So this song emerges from my Marrow.
Suman Kumar Das
Suman Kumar Das
(11/24/2013 12:38:00 AM)
Assurance of Heaven
Kismet will kiss you,
Hope will hug you.
Hunger, thirst, pain
All ordeal will be overcome.
Also time will take
Pride in your prize.
While sleeping, as blanket
Bliss will warm you.
Love will come
To make you hear lullaby.
Oh! Children of heaven,
Do not despair;
Rather keep on dreaming
Without losing trust in self.
So hang on trying,
With heart and soul.
Suman Kumar Das
(11/23/2013 11:43:00 PM)
As the tear of Time
Trickled down the
Face of Life
I saw a Moment
Roll down its cheek.
A moment made of
Millions of minute
A moment tinted with
A moment that lay
Bare and throbbed
Wild and chained
Panted and gasped
Sobbed and gurgled.
A moment that was
Dark and luminous
Parched and quenched
Tender and strong
Pain and joy.
Circled with a halo
Gathered me in its radiance
To feel eternity.
That infused awe
And a pleasurable dread
A moment of ecstasy in pain
A moment of utter worship
A moment that never slept
A moment that lay awake.
A moment called Love
Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
(11/22/2013 10:57:00 AM)
I send my congratulations to the winners of PoemHunter's September poetry contest! ! ! Fantastic poems.I've been away for a while so I missed this contest.. I hope to enter the next one...
(11/22/2013 10:41:00 AM)
Inspiration comes from my daughter's
It's not about me it's about there father
I'm starting to see my reflection through my daughter's face
Now my past is creeping on me so it's time to race
But I'm not a coward anymore that was my dad's mistake
While he was misusing his father's traits
I was looking for love in the wrong place
I broke so many heart's and I still feel abused
Like she was using me and I was using her
Both mother and father stuck in a web
Mother dead while father eating breakfast in bed
The time I had with her was so minimal
The time I had with him was so detrimental
I don't know who to blame
Cause I walked in there shoes and felt there pain
So I'm digging deeper to see who lit the flame
I'm calling on the Gods to bring on the rain
Everyone looking at me like I'm insane
But I'm looking at them like your living in vain
So I walk with my chest out and a smile on my face
As I search for that path of divine grace
(11/20/2013 6:28:00 AM)
| Read 1 reply
Can You Help Me?
I couldn't keep going on like this
any more, not any more.
I am out of my mind,
I really am,
what to do?
I am totally out of my mind
I really am
Can you help me
to run away from this situation
this bloody damn one...
(11/19/2013 8:22:00 AM)
the rope in which we all hang by is made of three strands hope, love, and happiness and when all of these strands come together they have the ability to create a noose. a noose in which grows tighter and tighter until you’re pushed off the cliff to be left hanging by only hope but realize someone will be at the bottom to catch you before you hit the bottom. falling off the end is selfish because there will always be a person to catch you at the ground even when its not the person you would first expect. we as humans not only have the ability to hurt ourselves, but we have the indefinite ability to hurt others. the gun in which we all carry is a weapon of mass destruction and the bullet of words has the ability to peirce the thickest of skins. the pistol of hate which fires the bullet is thoughtfully created and manipulated to fire a single shot to bring down those who oppose us. but not every one needs these things to better themselves, because everyone has the power to breed there own thoughts, there own inspiration, and has the power to change there own life for the better. the choice is yours don’t wait and be naive to the world around you. use what you know to help you better the person who you really are.
(11/18/2013 9:46:00 PM)
She stands there in the rain with a sad look on her face.
She was once full of joy and life but that's all gone now.
She now believes as if people look right through her.
She closes her eyes and begins to dream about flying.
As the cold her passes her face she for the first time in a long time smiles.
And as she comes to a landing she realizes there is no more pain, no more sadness, no more anything.
(11/18/2013 10:12:00 AM)
Whenever you get the chance, would you mind going take a look at my poem?I'm pretty new to this. Thanks :)
(11/17/2013 12:32:00 PM)
Please read my poems and give feedback to improve my writing... thanks