Subrata Ray

Rookie (27.01.1959 / Nator, Rajsahi, Bengladesh)

The Afternoon’s Letter. By Ray Subrata - Poem by Subrata Ray

The post man dropped a letter,
As if, a distant memory’s face,
And, no one writes a pen, for him,
A surprise visitor’s greeting!

The letter got unfolded,
In the lonely old bachelor’s bed,
Some burden came down from his head,
And some peeped through memory’s shed.

How are you? Wish you the best,
Wish you with all my rest.

Hi Arpita! Where you are my dearest?
All these years I have preserved you in my chest,

Thirty years, one by one stepped back,
A flourishing face, lively smile,
Blossom, bud, flower fragrance,
Ever cherished presence, arrested glance.

Now? Yes, as he revives, a nun, Devi,
Goddess indeed, - a Divine mother’s shrine.
She was born –empress, he, recalls, and guess,
The 11, a.m’s sun, at afternoon, illumines fresh.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 23, 2010



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