Autobiography Of Dew Poem by ananda majumder

Love with Dew: Typology

In the dawn, dews are having deleterious effect
Millions of cosmic spirituality is changing our consciousness

Dews are dawning like devastating love
Lunatic writhing inside my body
I am treading natal soil
Accreted out of my wave inside
Whirling what? Dew stream is flowing inside

Scouring away my sins!
This is a sizzling time… sweltering up with unborn light
I am unshorn, unkempt... Leaving my home


If the dew falls before the dawn on your fore, you will be a dervish
Falling dews in the middle of the night, in lunatic moonlight, on resting deer Kasturi born out of drops

Stag in Kashmir smell the blue dew, only the deer knows where in snow dews are resting upon
When tree horn grows on head of a deer
Horny nights are passing away unloved
If dew drops in sight, eyes becomes the twin

See a new entwined horizon is firming up my departure
I will not go, I will not go
I will wet you with mystic dew

World will progress when love in view

Genre of Dew

There are five types of dew
Under my optical auditing

I am auditioning as voice of dew
Wet and evanescent, only heard in you
In survey and in view, rustic light endures
Like a lavish cockroach night

You are redialling your air to flow fresh
Reprieving from the holiday sex
But the flowers are really horny for pollination
In a whitish indigo civilization
In old churches of England, I will marry you
Before off to sail, we will mix up tear with sea
If I am returning real, love in memory of wilderness
In veil, I am the corridor of unseen real

On the bank of Amstel River, Long before the dam is there
Women are sharing tear
Departure of Sailors sinking in rush of surging eyes

On the front of African Amazon
Reason reborn with execution of light
When under the sight, kinkiest time passes away with lewd statement of nine-democracy
When clewed makes the sailing as in warriors view
Sea is emerging out of me
Nay, nay…. In an Augustus parliament, nay to sea

On the front of unsought war, blood is changing colour
I am the door; I am the exit, when you do reason in posit

Dialling Hayat, the length pre-destined existence
Southern breeze is wet with tear


When sea takes us, we will go to sea
When air comes as pack of life, I will pick it up
Like hayat, Hey! Come on! I am the vendor, no bargain, I set aside price of Hayat
In Persia, I am the companion of Rumi
With untiring tune of Sitar … all Sufi awakens, dear

I am telling you the story of my life
As if in the middle of the night I am dew, having fun with deer
Just imagine, in Sudan
I am the justice of individual
God promised to delve into a community if crosses the limits of fear
I don’t want to try any individual for sin
Sin is social

If ill like Ayub, the prophet who suffered most
Crucify my music, gone deeper into Mosaic mystique

Rumi was always present in the world
Like the past is cascading future


I am nursing you with confessional therapy
Astounding Yoga, where reason ends with regurgitation

This is the time of flowering night
Everything comes in sight, without light

Hey come on, you are luscious softness of my sexual vanity
I am the dew to hag on view

Defiant to your paraxial haggish time

Taking away the sense of mine

I see everything, even the birth of time
Written history pegs on me
I am the court of mysterious boy, rooming the city with joy


Dew in the space

Ramming down with hype, this is the rooming time
No war is goring, only the horns of deer bleeding love in Amalaki Forest

Moon is mastering over the earth
Light and shadow is meandering through
Love of deer is dimpling deep in the sky
As a star to born with beauty of shy

That was blue sky, indigo blue
Where the farmers are ribbon of till
Snatched away by indigo Zaminder

When I have no attire, you rag at me
When at night you think I am kinkiest bee, you unclothe me
I am now wearing a dress of warrior
Unbranded, not produced in your sweatshop

My ribbon gives me the pride; I do reap up my light
My evening, oh my dear!

I came across you in a port of Indigo
All workers are blue

I met you in den of blood transfusion
All the workers are red


I shed, I shed, tear for you
I am the most nascent consciousness of morning dew!