Comments about Priyanka Bhowmick
A tree, so sole,
yet so familiar with all,
gives shade under its branches,
an intimate friend,
a shelter for all.
Butified by its leaves,
so green and serene,
everyone loves it,
the matured tree.
A time of season,
the tree not more alive,
it's dead and decayed,
its leaves already dried.
No one looks at it,
for it not give shelter anymore,
'It's a cursed tree! ! ', say all,
it's being hated, therefore.
Spring is here! !
now new leaves going to bloom again,
the tree shall smile again,
its friends will ...
Pain That Kills Me
Unknown a trouble has grabbed my soul,
a trouble incapable I am to portray.
Neither the pain of love nor the tragedy of life,
hurting my mind in a ceaseless way.
Nature seems to be speechless,
her elements pointing their fingers at me.
Birds not reply, trees not give me their shade,
the river turns off her face from me.
People reacting at me in an unusual way,