Bijay Kant Dubey Journey Poems

The Indian railway running by the grace of Lord Rama,
Chugging and whistling,
The light is, but the bulbs are not,
A few of them burning dimly,
...

My God, the night is dark,
Where am I going,
Whether o.k. or something wrong,
Am I in the right train or not,
...

Jayanta Mahapatra's journey
From physics to poetry,
From photography to word-play to imagery and imagism,
Linguistic jargon of words,
...

Strange Journey
Published in 1936
Bharatha Shakthy Nilayam, Pondicherry
Includes in
...

Foreigners, tourists, visitors,
Where to go,
Where our destinations?
Where tours and travels
...

From modernism and its beyond
To the modernist
To the post-modern
...

Who am I?
You are sky,
Wind,
Fire,
...

Do they return
Who, who go away?
No, no, never,
Never do they come back.
...

Where does man go after death,
Can you say?
Where does man?
...

Akshara-bodh,
Smriti-rekha se
Buddhi-vikas.
...

What is the end of the journey
Can you say,
Where it ends?
...

Whose railway train is this
Without any mai-baap,
Father-mother to see?
...

Gandhivad se gandhigiri
Ka safar,
Mulyon, prateeko aur adarsho ko
Pop culture mei
...

Pinda-dana,
Ashthi-kalasha,
This the story of my life,
My journey through heat and dust,
...

Songs of Rama: A Journey of The Self, A Song of The Soul


I do not know it nor can I say why have I called these poems to be put before as Songs of Rama: A Journey of The Self, A Song of The Soul and what is that makes them readable and if your want to read them, you may or otherwise leave them as I have written them in the memory of my youngest brother who was no doubt a promising martial artist who lapsed in addiction and depression as for in the absence of opportunities and I used to serve him, but the path of life for him had been very zigzagged and painful, recovering and recuperating and finally losing the battle of life. He used to try to climb up the thick rope hanging from the banyan tree in the highland area and used to run on the river bed, sparring, running for miles, lifting weights, doing asanas, pranayams, sit-ups, jogging, as such was his practice, but God willed it otherwise and he died away living a miserable death under neglect and poverty. None supported us too. Neither the relatives nor the officials, everyone exploited our cultural refinement and meek nature, scholarship and property as we had not been hard. He was the fellow who used to accompany me up to the brook, the crematorium, the cemetery, the hills, the woods and solitary landscapes as for to help me in the writing of poems. Honesty too pays it not always, neither simplicity nor high thinking. Our diary firms used to run in losses and the pure milk takers used to befool us. Tears welled up into the eyes when I had been writing the text of it as it did in writing Bapu, Asthi-Kalasha and Pinda-Dana.
...

Letting the people
Queued long and waiting for long,
Under the heat of the sun
For all day long,
...

Giving tension to us
Letting us pass sleepless nights,
Making the pockets moneyless,
With no money int eh pocket,
...

Letting the people
Troubled
By your demonetization,
Discontinuation of
...

I have been writing poems in English since 1986,
But did not get any support
From the Indian Govt.,
Nor did the professors and litterateurs
...

I have been writing poems in English since 1986,
But did not get any support
From the Indian Govt.,
Nor did the professors and litterateurs
...

The theatre artistes
Are packing things to go
But the actress in pains.
...

Three stages come in generally
As is the course of,
The journey from modernism to post-modernism,
One who had been modern will be mod, modernistic, stylish-listic, manneristic,
...