Subrata Ray (27.01.1959 / Nator, Rajsahi, Bengladesh)
Voice by Ray Subrata
Orators to public deliver their gift of the gab,
They fire emotion, exalt sense beyond map.
The politicians like toads praise their well,
Propagandize ism, and ring their bell.
Some leaders like shepherd lead their sheep,
Implement manifesto as they get their whip.
People take their words from stations of profit
Little they discriminate, how their lectures merit.
A saint’s pleasure graces people to rise,
From wintry slumber, and deadly demise.
Godly words tinged with beacon –light,
Dislodge, impel, move and set to flight.
Flowery oracles from distant land,
In a prophet’s voice finds rigid stand.
Strange beauty sprouts from our ionized devices,
A voice voices, and our divinity rises.
While Swami Vivekananda in Chicago addresses world religion,
A voice without form thunders, and creates cyclonic motion.
Those who have the experience, may recount,
Where he was before and where after himself he found.
Comments about this poem (Voice by Ray Subrata by Subrata Ray )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings