At one time
the morning rays spill on the veranda
of our small, sweet home.
Little sparrows and vilage mynahs
beat in exhileration.
my mother in her soaked saree
plucks flowers for puja.
holding the sweeping broom
moves towards the Kolkay tree.
At one time
the sound of local womenfolk's
rhythmic beating of rice-thresher stops.
Lying on my bed
I see and sense all these
just to fall asleep again....
After all, my entire life is
nothing but a long dark night
CHOUDHURI SUKUMAR's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Morning by CHOUDHURI SUKUMAR )
- Blame not the stars, gajanan mishra
- Emptyness, advija hrustic
- Lay Me Down, Myrtle Thomas
- Dessert Deluge ..... [ 'just' DESSERTS,.., Bri Edwards
- Standard asset, gajanan mishra
- AnyThing In ReTurn, Kewayne Wadley
- If all we know is love, Mark Heathcote
- Remove Yourself From Bitterness, Ronell Warren Alman
- Fornicating In The Bowels Of Unswerving .., Captain Cur
- im not okay, Faith Taylors
Poem of the Day
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
- Heather Burns
(8 August 1884 – 29 January 1933)