Kinshuk Banik Poems

All storms reach their ends,
And fates have became my friends;
But the last storm it is.
Knocking off the trees
...

I misunderstood Thy words, life.
To Thy advice stayed I deaf,
Until, of mercy, fell the last leaf,
I started Thy eternal strife.
...

In the poetic land I dwell,
Not like the man Peter Bell,
''A primrose by the river's brim,
Was just a yellow primrose to him,
...

May I be grateful, but thou art free.
In the darkest night,
Let me seek my light.
For ever and ever, may thou have glee.
...

O little bird, who made thee?
Who made such mirth and glee?
Who made such a delight to see?
O little bird, who made thee?
...