Rohan Sen

In the park, for the last time,
couldnt look you in the eye,
everytime I glanced,
I was reminded,
...

When I met you, I remember you in tears,
and I held your hand,
but you ignored me completely,
and yet you smiled sweetly,
...

I have seen those mountain springs,
I have seen the Seas,
I have seen your power,
In starting a pleasant breeze..
...

Can a man write from the highs of happiness?
I tried and I have failed.
Words that became my friends,
were in fact fiends who in dark weather,
...

I still remember,
ten years to the day,
A winter evening, devoid of hope,
You went out on an errand..
...

A 60 years of India,
A pot on the boil,
A special ingredient was added,
The infamous 'Sons of the Soil'.
...

Perhaps 'twas destiny that stole its youth,
Autumn was never privy to the truth,
grown barren by He who weaves,
too early for snow, too late for leaves.
...

The eyes were pursed forever,
no smile nor tears mourned his passing,
and the river flowed undisturbed so gray,
green grew around his fallen form,
...

The rain came early that year,
bringing with it relief and release,
and the crowds ran for cover,
rain carrying into ev'ry nook and corner,
...

Midnight and madness,
sitting by the window,
aware of guilt,
my tears the quilt,
...

I never wanted,
but he forced me,
after all, girls my age,
they were all 'into',
...

Across the moors the eyes survey,
gathering night birds and o'wisps in my sight,
a breeze of chill upon my face,
rocks me, as lullaby, into the night
...

Its been a while since I thought of you,
its been too long, yet I remember,
our faces touched together against the monsoon,
our hands squeezed shut during winter in december
...

Sunrise.
The beginning,
of the inquisition,
making you a prey,
...

'...many copies of the same message, in an attempt to force the message on people who would not otherwise choose to receive...'

At the edge of the tower,
feet along the ledge, forlorn,
...

Its a morning divinity made,
whem am beside you,
I look for signs of your being awake,
so I can take,
...

Night falls amidst silence and whispering words,
a scratching sound, rough on smooth,
pen cuts throughs paper, molding words
from the cluttered mind of youth
...

Not satisfied of earthty mirth
or proud of her human birth,
she seeks the uninhabited space
blending turmoil and solace
...

For years now he stands
at his window unrushed,
they doff their hats and courtesy
for the many canvas he has brushed
...

With a thorn from a Rose,
he pierced onto the bark,
his work for the day,
his talent on display
...