Pijush Biswas Poems

After a long awaiting had been over, the day
Was finally, at the door of our hope
We were hoping lot as the bay
Of Bengal, turbulent, praying us with every drop.
...

Two roads crost in a point, beside the town
And think I much of home, standing alone
Little I queer about the sun down
But much to see how the roads atone.
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Poetry is a flower, indeed-
Blooms within a poet's mind;
Poetry nourishes life in need
When comes the stormy wind.
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My shadow and I walk together in sunshine
I think 'I'm not alone, as we are the same'
When I walk alone and all align
To play the football game.
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How could I tell thee thy arms my life were
The life is a vessel-unmasted, could I tell thee
If ever I could thou must see me today little unaware
In every breath of life; I would have been thine, but be
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It might be a pretty gift I won
The wrath of storm might seek itself a mind
A petty grace might be a beauty itself alone
The storm might be more temperate and kind.
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Every mind is itself a mirror
Every mind is itself a universe
It looks faint in life and verse
When clays paste itself to it-
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I look at my window, casually, every noon
I look at the out-world beyond my world
Immaturelly, to get relief out of sordid boon
Although I'm a half grown old.
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One who shines alone forever burns bright
And never comes by his path petty grace in life
No the reason he exhibits in vain, nor respite
Leaves a truant speechless while rides on cliff.
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Morning dews glitter at the edges of grasses
We children look our faces into them
We see the sun-shine lash
Upon the dews
...