As I descend from the door
to open the mail with hope of your love
I riffle through the pages of letter
Your lofty whisper creeps over my dream
the fragrance of roses bedazzles the mirth
eyes yet bestirs by the baited breath
to behold the scarlet red in your desire
blood when writes from the core blue
by the sweat fed ink of dappled colors
hope never broods of the mighty love
reason still awaits in askance to bleed
morning as awaits the early sun
passion paints the art of love in redolence
lest post man knocks the door in grey colors
the words of silence wrought in mute voices
unveil the pack of green by the riches of grin
still I await the deep art of queries by the soul
moon may come upon the hill top
dream lest be not sneaking into silhouette
passion deciphers the quest across the desire
time flecks away beyond the ripples over the river
This poem is not only a poet's quest, but a wonderful paintig with words! The last line is both a beauty and a philosophy! - Raj Nandy
The darling of a poem... Thanks for sharbng subhendu, ...10... Best wishes, Tsira
Dr Kar, your imagery as always is sublime and you have magnified the reading of a letter from a beloved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully painted the desire. Rather heavenly touch of unfolded truth begins to wing to the readers digest. Letter, peon...unique metaphors take our imagination away from the poets horizon...a different ownness we began to weave as soon as the door opened. Nice skill of crafting the poetic beauty. Nice poem.....10+++ Regards, pranab