Prateep Sengupta

(14th February / Digboi, Assam, India)

Melancholic Nostalgia


Those days are now long past
In oblivion those hours lie
When in my garden thousands flower bloomed
When I presented to her bunches of sweet flowers;
Those days are now only a memory
When, in return, I got equal fragrant flowers from her.

First when flowers of my garden began to bloom
Fortnightly I presented to her
And fortnightly I was returned.
Each flower carried
Throbbing of my heart to her.

But I was greedy;
With flowers I wanted to tempt her
And so
To draw her close
I began to present her
Twice or thrice a week
Bunches of flowers.
They carried to her
My heart with its light and shade;
She knew all the well-lighted streets
And dark alleys of my heart;
I thought equal perfume in return
Shall carry her heart to me.

But slowly declined the returns
Though it did not stop;
For all my flowers in large number
I was returned once a month.
But I was a fool
And thought flowers she returned
Once a month
Worth my whole.
I could not guess
Those were courtesy,
And even if I had pretended
To present flowers to someone else
She continued to present me:
It was her genial nature,
Not to be jealous, or
I did not know
Slowly to her my fragrance vanished
Slowly to her my image withered.

I gave her flowers
To get from her
But things I presume always go wrong
Although vibrations of my heart were exposed to her
Her heart remained locked to me;
No key could I find
To open her heart
And burglary was always against my honour.
Like I
My flowers withered;
No flowers from her
Carried her heart to me.

I stopped presenting flowers to her
And thought
Now she would feel the worth and ask,
But she asked for none;
Te dark alleys loomed large in her vision
The image already withered;
Flowers that once enthralled her
Lost their magic and their charm.
Slowly realized I
The worth of my flowers
No return they deserve
Nor my heart.
My poetry became a memory,
My ardent longing became a past,
Those sweet hours lost in darkness
And all the flowers of my garden withered.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 21, 2010

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Comments about this poem (Melancholic Nostalgia by Prateep Sengupta )

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  • Kevin Carney (7/31/2010 7:23:00 PM)

    I like this length didn't bother me at all. It kept me interested and wanted to keep reading on. Sad in a way with a message. (Report) Reply

  • Terence George Craddock (7/23/2010 3:24:00 PM)

    The moral must be, to give with love and joy which is priceless and a blessing, for it is greater to give than to receive, and God loves a joyful giver. A sad poem with an important message to teach. (Report) Reply

  • Nivedita Bagchi SPC UK (5/27/2010 3:32:00 AM)

    Great and deep poetry…

    May be over zealousness or mistiming did the havoc of jilt.

    Poets never care for jilts and jolts and poetically very much essential…

    Enjoyed this longish poetry a narrative type…one sided a very good style of? infatuation-poetry
    10/10
    Ms. Nivedita
    UK (Report) Reply

  • Faeo Lyre Clive (4/23/2010 3:12:00 AM)

    Being the first to comment on this great poem ticks today a great day and pleasure in my live-long life.
    Alas! I'm pent-up and inarticulate,
    but shorly, this hardwork of yours deserved a noble prize.
    One and only but can vie a miscellany.
    I'm not good in making long comments but this at every particular arrested me.
    In fine, all I can say is that it is a great hardwork.
    Being your first poem, I think you'd in advance, shake the literary world, move poetic mountains.
    Keep it up and more grease to your elbows.
    But do you know that you've kept this God's blessing in you unleashed, just read my poem 'favous aloof' and you'd understand.
    It is worth awarding.
    Hence
    Keep the flag flying for you're an advantage to the literati.
    Great you!
    Bravo! (Report) Reply

  • Faeo Lyre Clive (4/23/2010 3:12:00 AM)

    Being the first to comment on this great poem ticks today a great day and pleasure in my live-long life.
    Alas! I'm pent-up and inarticulate,
    but shorly, this hardwork of yours deserved a noble prize.
    One and only but can vie a miscellany.
    I'm not good in making long comments but this at every particular arrested me.
    In fine, all I can say is that it is a great hardwork.
    Being your first poem, I think you'd in advance, shake the literary world, move poetic mountains.
    Keep it up and more grease to your elbows.
    But do you know that you've kept this God's blessing in you unleashed, just read my poem 'favous aloof' and you'd understand.
    It is worth awarding.
    Hence
    Keep the flag flying for you're an advantage to the literati.
    Great you!
    Bravo! (Report) Reply

Read all 5 comments »

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