Subrata Ray

Subrata Ray Poems

Long before the clicking of time-clock,
When memory had no advent,
Your abstract image planted its reflection,
In the all mirrored prism of my soul.

Love is a haunting spell
it allows imagination to fulfill

The eyes twinkle,
The minds bro show,
The snakes in the bodies,
Hiss and go.

My Journey Through Some British Poets. by Ray Subrata

If I start from Shakespeare,
I see love be-fooling Time,

Others do little, and say more,
Seek to open many doors,
And project their Gay, in life’s bay,
But you with your certitude and faith,

Love turns to empathy when one sees God in all,
The sharing of the self in life's rise and fall.
Fostered humbleness, blooms the empathy's flower,
And with it God's bliss, spontaneously showers.

The Fool’s Paradise.

Who is the Fool that creates Fool’s paradise, ?
Is he not a not a dream-land wise?

The Mystery Of Music.
Music by nature is without word,
As the dumb in us prevails,
The notes within find flow,

The Nude.

Mountain, ocean, sky
Desert forest and the rest

Dear sweet heart,
The exchange of love letters,
Our abstract impossible,
Gardens our trees,

Do you think? ‘I don’t deserve!
I have stung ministers and big brothers,
In my art evoking body’s harp,
Yes, yes, I do deserve!

The rose is ever green,
The rose remains bloomed

From A Son To His Divine Mother(-Saroda.)
I wish to be a mad,
A mother-loran lad,
With one stay in life,

No otherwise was,
No solace from dedicated past,
And I had to walk with self –lighted torch,
Amidst the friend-faced, indifference.

The Psychic Drill.

How then the ‘why’ revives,
In a romantic wheel,

The Romantic Revival.
In some by gone births,
We came on this earth,
And sang the psalm of love,


Sudden message in my passage
With the gift of earth rooted Rose

Declared she at the age of twenty,
Hey, -me! No profit I can earn,
Save the whirlwinds and burns,
Of the rooted parasites of so many lives,

I Want To Forget You.

I confess, I am in tress,
Of your winks’ missiles,

Mother _Day Inmemorium (Maa)

Who can trace
Your grace

Subrata Ray Biography

Subrata Ray, retired Headmaster of 12-grade Govt.Sponsored School, West Bengal, India is a published author and poet of inter national reputation. Subrata Ray has published more than twenty books, and more than 3000 poems. Poet Subrata Ray is a a critic on English literature, and has more than 300 criticisms on the poets, novelists, dramatists of English literature. The readers may find Poet Subrata Ray or Author Subrata Ray in global net,)

The Best Poem Of Subrata Ray

Love For The Beloved.

Long before the clicking of time-clock,
When memory had no advent,
Your abstract image planted its reflection,
In the all mirrored prism of my soul.

I had many a query and musing,
On the occasional projections,
And silently condensed forms and figures,
Like the recovery of oblivious dreams.

In temple, church and caves, the same image,
The same exploration, more in wretched and outcast,
Had an impelling sway as if a drop of water holds thousand oceans,

Like the ardent cry of an widow damsel,
For a promised off-sea captain,
Or the dry-throat of a pilgrim in a desert-,
To have a peg to quench thirst,
I claim as your shadow, and murmur ever,
Oh! My unborn, ancient, eternal lover!

Subrata Ray Comments

Aleja Bennett 17 July 2016

Proud of you

1 0 Reply
Dawn Fuzan 15 May 2014

bazil I like your uneque style.

1 0 Reply

Subrata Ray Quotes

The worldly love is like an onion.The more you open its layers, the more it would fade.

To A Friend To Man (DOA SECONDARY HOWRAH) . Who needs your profile? The Copied talent of a scholar The status of an office boss, The slippy nexus of a profit nodded Yesman Who needs those musks? Nay Sir, nay! For, life fleets through Time' tyranny, It urges to evade Ego, It demands the fountain of humanity It leaves foot prints on the sands of Time, It flourishes with empathy, With self dignity to stand by, In the hours of distress of the fellow men, And the response of a vigilant conscience already in us. The virtues equal Divine Intervention, And ascend to the pitch, love evoked reverence. Dear sir, Shall we not remember? Shall we not lit the Feel of feelings? In such friendly dealings, Where love turns into the Besuty of the self. Dear DOA sir, When I will be afar, It will matter little, For, I have just recognised Another view of your, Human profile. By poet Subrata Ray

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