Bazi alis Subrata Ray
The Tempest From The Unconscious.
The links to the senses were boomeranged,
The planted traps on pleasure house licked dismay,
The traditional gay haggard in the weary mirage,
The Nature’s cycle stood –still in autumnal –winter.
All yesterdays’ hope-ridden dreams breathe smokes,
Of kind as foul odor from the heaps of dead-bodies,
Half eaten and stored booties, wasted in a harem,
Rise and whisper, whisper and rise as phantom-locus.
The earth and the stars receded, departed the memories,
The Time -left –un-rotten corpse wished the confession!
Bazi alis Subrata Ray'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 Tempest From The Unconscious. by Bazi alis Subrata Ray )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- A Pair Of Messy Birds (Fun Poem 158), David Harris
- Beyond The Desert, Tracee Olga
- Tumbleweed, Robert Kane
- The Motorcyclists, James Tate
- The Definition of Gardening, James Tate
- Escape, Sadiqullah Khan
- Dial the Number Zero, Pintu Mahakul
- The Cowboy, James Tate
- Unrequited, Robert Kane
- Best of Times, Sadiqullah Khan