Bazi alis Subrata Ray
What Ought To Have Been My Poem. - Poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray
Picture of thoughts of readable politics,
No slipshod of unfelt drudgery,
No tool to make fool a bull,
And winnowing the sweat-dropped -wages.
The aesthetic delight of spiritual-science,
Like the uncovered crack of a volcano,
The reconstruction of constructed conscience,
And the literature of my nomadic vagabond.
Meticulous image as distilled lake,
Where one sees his mask-less face,
And the effacing identity reflects the within,
The tale of Time hangs without name.
That ought to have been a fragment of my poem.
The schooling of the Truth,
Though upland relative in every phase,
Of vegetation , birds, animals and men,
Might have been the candle of my poem to wean.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You