Golaka Acharya

Golaka Acharya Poems

Built myself
in the bricks of Robert Frost
so much sculpture
so much finery

The reverse you are.
At eighty or with wife or grandchildren
youth hides in the umbra
a blurred image

Wherever the body is
‘I’ get up hidden
run, fly or float
somewhere other I am.


Even when she is
even when she is not;
wind blows softly
leaves look greener

In the confessions of Sasmita;
another stroke;
making her love deep and visible;
I see my fraility.

Flying and flying
looking and looking
searching and searching
whirling and whirling

A strange verandah
old and vanquished eyes
toothless sunken cheeks
looking at the road

The same scene
the same rain
the same night.

Surrounding is
sharper a knife than diseases
society; more fierce a bullet
than my deserted love;

A tree stands there.
What’s its name?
A bald tree stands there
birds come, sit, twitter

Light shakes
as a branch tilts
in the wind
life runs

Silence after a murder

no kith and keen nearby

In the darkness a mango falls
an owl hoots
wind blows and you smile.


As I start the semi brave
wishes get wings
the cello, the flute—all brighten;
I think so I am.

The odour persists
tireness numbs
eyelids bow, I feel poor.


The drumstick hangs
the calf pushes its head
into the fence
the bleeding scratch runs.

An old bull strolls across
a childless old man
walks slowly
amidst the mango leaves

I drew a map of my childhood
another of my adolescence, then
my youth and the next. One day,
sitting alone I tried to compare all.

Somewhere the ruffled wind sings a lullaby
who else will
when the hiss of death audible
from below the tree of govt.

Golaka Acharya Biography

I have been a shy ruralite.Since birth the eyes of a goat led to the slaughter house haunts me.Similarly all woes. I also look into my dermatis and introspect.Find life too painful. The only way to live well is to share others' worries & concern.I have one anthology of poems Agadha Adhaka Mora (The Unbuilt Half Of Mine) .I love to live in others' love and affection.Please keep in touch with me.My phone number is-09938175100.)

The Best Poem Of Golaka Acharya


Built myself
in the bricks of Robert Frost
so much sculpture
so much finery
but the artisan in me failed.

Did the Artisan fail in me.

The old lady
widowed at ninety
loves her husband
loves her life
loves her bangles too.
None can say her insane.

wanted to be a blade of grass
couldn't be a dropp of dew
a Konark is in me
I am in the unbuilt part too.

Monks and myths chant
that Artisan's name
who makes not
what I love
what He thinks
and what He is not.

Golaka Acharya Comments

Golaka Acharya 21 December 2011

Readings and phone calls bewitch me.I am thankful to all of you.

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Soumya Ojha 17 December 2011

Feeling relax aftr read this poem.....simply suprb sir...

0 0 Reply
Golaka Acharya 11 December 2011

Where is life if not here in these poems!

1 0 Reply

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