When the apparently elongated life
Is shortened into some moments, a few hours,
Sleep come not in my eyes.
After little an hour night will fall;
...
God cast the bad Angels into the inferno of fire
The emblem of Goodness did not let the Bad to touch Him
For there would be no difference between Good and Bad
From that very day He taught us the greatest hatred for Bad.
...
Here eucalyptus stands straight
Raising heads towards azure,
And skin peeled off, patulous boughs, flavescent in homely gloaming.
Here I can sit beside a brake and write,
...
They say He controls your heart,
somebody says the heart is your won,
They say love, Nature all are the Figment of mind.
The brag could not bring me peace,
...
Here the weather is sunny
No work today,
I play on my phone gleeful way.
There in my home it rains galore.
...
A boat came, you rode on it
Piecemeal weathered the far west
Where fragmented crimson clouds are dissolving in the water
The boat died out there
...
Let the baby stay alone
For in womb it got presage of the bitter solitude of the world.
It's just crossed the border of a dark world
Did it tell you to clamour?
...
Some people do not spend their time building castle in the air,
Some people do not stay alone for a while in a pensive chair.
What do they think about life?
Is there not time left in rife?
...
It appears in your mind when midnight comes
When without the humdrum of day
Sit alone coldly in the night air
Dewy night will make you cold to your heart
...
A STUDENT OF ENGLISH IN VIDYASAGAR UNIVERSITY, WB, INDIA. I'M NOT A PROLIFIC WRITER. BEING SWAYED BY ANY THOUGHT PROVOKING THOUGHT I SCRIBBLE SOMETHING. AND I WANNA SHARE MY COGITATION WITH THE PEOPLE ALL OVER THE WORLD.)
Recreate In Grief
When the apparently elongated life
Is shortened into some moments, a few hours,
Sleep come not in my eyes.
After little an hour night will fall;
Then profound quietus waits for me,
So, why sleep right now?
To waste little but precious pulses!
Lethargic state may appear,
But my mind won't allow.
Mundane hindrance: Shame, Fear, Hatred
Mostly produced by the vain, blind souls
Have spoiled much time of Time,
Too little time left
To meet my soul, if possible Him.
In hand too little time to recreate.
Recreate in grief-
To sweeten great remorse.
Much more doings, not concrete,
Not of this earth but aerial,
Affect from hearts to hearts.
I assure you, the mute sound
Will reach God, if possible to believe.
Sometimes clouds accumulate in joyous sky
,
Rain falls for a while even
In gloomy night, lightning splits
The sky where moonbeams played a little before,
The Owner of the World betokens His will,
But we fail to perceive this truth
And in vain as our own use our span.
Though 'tis evening, sleep comes not in my eyes,
This harrowing circle I fear not
'Cause all the day is gone in waste,
Now I'm of none,
Now I'm to brood on the rest...