Kakoli Choudhury

Kakoli Choudhury Poems

He seems to be a poet,
His deathless mind endlessly flaps,
The unimpeded soar of a hawk,
The flow of the nomadic stream.

The two honey bees I dream of
Droning, buzzing, zooming,
Mumbling about the night's darkness.
I see them whizzing fast,


Life, Blink thee not,
For thou had a mortal fate,
A legions of mysterious to unfold,
Myriad tacits to be mould.

Venom between the curved lips,
Nurtured soul of Satan,
Contagious, lures the world
With a scathing lullaby,

Resurrecting from the broken bits,
She bleeds her stars in ink.
Each leaf harbours a lone life.
If one in the navel

A bud on bloom,
Pampered by the sunshine,
Shielded by the starlit sky,
Versed by the dozen dew drops.

Procreating out of Aphrodite's genes,
Every soul be enamored,
Salvaging from the Cimmerian dearth,
The inured sting be medicated

The last day anchored the clock,
The swan song tuned in the air
Time flaunting its pace, accessed
Drubbing the trumpet of its power,

Lolls upon the earth, a cavader
Carpeted with the silent shroud,
Amidst some farewell mores
Still, irenic, it lies

The waves within me,
Whops the shore of my soul,
The pen falls apart.
I try to collect the bits

Along the blink and mettle,
In the flagstone of life, I stood,
Weaving myself with anticipation.
The sonic clock coerced me,

Bruises in her heart,
Dusk drumming over her poll
Dingy nights and foggy clouds
No sunbeam, no moonbeam ahead...

In the grey bylanes of unruly time,
Lies the abode of soothing memoirs.
Blurred episodes of innocence
And the carefree moves of the uncaged birds,

A man with luminous soul
Was sent by God
To blaze sparks of light
Amidst the lurking pitch dusk,

The ocean of peoples,
The berth of hagglers,
Everyone almost roves around
With their probing eyes.

The Best Poem Of Kakoli Choudhury

He Is A Poet

He seems to be a poet,
His deathless mind endlessly flaps,
The unimpeded soar of a hawk,
The flow of the nomadic stream.
He is the aerial gyre,
With wings of creation,
The whole world, he conceives.
Musing for a bona-fide cause,
He scribes his heart,
Like the fall of summer dowpour.
He inks vermillion
On the otherwise widowed sheets.
Drenched in fervour,
He evaporates into verses,
He casts his immortal spell.
On the morsels of words
He feeds on.
And poetry springs on him.
Oh! He is a poet indeed...! ! !

Kakoli Choudhury Comments

Gautam Buddha 26 November 2019

Can we go on a date

0 0 Reply

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