PARTHA SARATHI PAUL Poems

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
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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.
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Science is so poor
It cannot say where`s mind!
God`s everywhere….
But it cannot see; such a blind!
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when a woodpecker
pecks at a hollow stem
his pains may be prized
or may just go in vain
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Sujata looked down and blue;
she was giving up on herself
as she could not get on well
with her study and exams.
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Blind love is not merely a fairy tale.
Like a running road it too is very real.
She has taught me this with her true love
being herself too stark blind to too curvy a path.
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The dawn of this new year
has lighted up my dim eyes
that see her rocking a cradle
where will grow REALIZATION.
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Like a flower plant blossoms blooms
a poet bears verses
in His silver aura and in His golden halo
to add a feather of beauty
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Village politics is a populour sad word.
Many villages in Bengal have learnt it for pain.
The poor bastion of red, green or lotus
goes through sudden capturing or recapturing.
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