Priyanka Bhowmick Poems
Comments about Priyanka Bhowmick
she's the core love of a poet,
beautiful, serene, she...
but no more her beauty remains,
for she's being murdered..
murdered by her children..
the ones who used to play..
play in her lap.. play with her..
they've grown up to be her murderer..
she wants to survive... but she can't.
for she's powerless..
She got an eternal place in each heart..
everyone loves her.. gazes at her charming beauty..
but she's been killed..
she's not a mother, neither a sister,
nor a lover...
but she's an utopia of every mind..
she's our Mother Nature.
The Old Man Sitting
Passing everyday through the plains,
I see a old man sitting,
Over the bench he sits,
with a stick in his hand and a ball on the other.
Know not what he thinks,
may be of some tragedy or may be some good memories.
A moment he sings, a moment he cries.
A moment he laughs thinking something nice.
And what's that ball for?