PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
Biography of PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
a teacher and bilingual poet...an avid English lover and dedicated learner...fond of poetry specially a resolute brevity lover...believe in terse but not trash poetry.
Muse India, India`s top-most web journal has awarded him
with YS poetry Prize for December 2013.Many of his early poems got published in Wave, once-published weekly supplement of The Telegraph.His poems have been selected for RAINBOW HUES, the anthology of 7th International Poetry fest-2014.He`ll be felicitated there in Andhra Pradesh.
PARTHA SARATHI PAUL's Works:
1) Kavita Pagal Katha; a volume of Bengali poems.
2) Oyster; a volume of English poems.
PARTHA SARATHI PAUL Poems
I Am Inside My Horoscope
I am smiling back to the smiles of the exalted Jupiter at the transit to my birth sign in my otherwise gloomy birth chart.
Think Positive And Dream Superlative
Think positive and dream superlative - - Get up and dare to be yourself Speak up and proclaim the gifted worth Take the enemy odds in your stride
Loneliness is not that bad. You can count your breaths. You can count on your violin existence. You can be your thoughtful companion.
Were This Poem My Last Poem!
Were this poem my last poem! No other poems would tell you many other things. How I wish I could obscure
A Sad, Hope Lyric...
while passing through a bad patch many good claws gift some deep scratch. gotta bear with all so love bruises from bitter foes once so dear friends.
A Hayabusa And Her Chiseled Rider!
Is it not hard to be wise with the brakes of a quick and high pick up baby
Clothed Lies And Nude Truths
White or black lies wear garb but their foes stand bare; don’t they feel like a barb?
The Curtain Drops Abruptly.............
A stage show for a short run - - slow or sudden end
Winter Herself Is Very Romantic!
O shyly blushed beauty your dewy veil is tenderly lifted by nervously hesitant late morning sun rays...
' All Is Not Lost '
When many hopes dash against a rock reality all of them never perish; the reduced bits rise from their forced grave- - At least one of them like a phoenix
Weavers Too Look At The Sky...
when a woodpecker pecks at a hollow stem his pains may be prized or may just go in vain
I Love Their Write...
I like the way we write the lingo. I love the way the native writers write it. We often go in a round about way; Our thoughts travel there via our vernaculars.
Hard Words From An Open Page...
A Sad Girl Sings...
Miss you, miss you, daddy; miss you very hard. It`s too long since that last day when you said, you`d not be long.
i stole the whole sun
to implant in your heart.
all holidays turn busy days;
your slender ﬁgure squeezes e
through a ﬁlled-up pitcher inside.
i hold the splashes in my palm-cup
and drink all the drops to the lees.
the 'wattled-cabin‘ reached the moon;
instead of walking down the bridge