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.
...

Rain, rain, the welcome rain,
That comes down from heaven.
That nourishes and nurtures life
In the dry and fiery strife,
...

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?
...