PARTHA SARATHI PAUL Poems

We shall see our end
with our eyes wide open.'
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Long long ago the mother
philosophy bore four kids;
ethics, logic, epistemology
and the great metaphysics.
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Poetry is the 'Forest of Arden'.
A dream land that hollers ' Eureka'.
A bee-hive that never goes dry.
A complex cobweb fashioned by intricate impulses.
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Art and life are like a body and a dress.
Like heart and blood.
The beauty of nature itself is wonderful art;
a steady powerhouse; a fount of perennial inspiration.
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No problem

You preferred Paso doble
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A poet is a mother who conceives
And delivers his infant poems.
The fertile womb takes and holds
All the blessing of his munificent Muse.
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Ruthless hatchet of iron-hands
may slay many selfless, upright heads
but their martyrdom will surely
sing a joyous anthem and their progeny
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A royal cherub was wielding a prodigy sword;
like a vengeful soldier the little eyes glowed like hot coals!
The shadow martial flair foreshadowed an emperor warrior!
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Even the path I am married to
has little idea about what lies miles ahead;
I implored 'today' to phone 'tomorrow'
but even telephone directory could not help...
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She can not see me
yet vividly describes my look.
She can not hear my words
yet she answers rightly
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