Rites Ghosh

Rites Ghosh Poems

Keep these verbs
you may require them
to bend a steel of wrath-
sharp weapons from behind

Let rain bring back the rhyme
from beyond mythical hills:
dry stony earth, this page,
cracks of my mind full-

Loneliness, you come to me
in my morning varandah and sipping tea
when after crushing summer
comes first the brave busy shower.

I am just forty
when my father
at seventy-three's duskglow
runs with

Milestones of a forlorn road
lie wayside
under mists and partial shadows
behind wintercanvas -

Mysrerious earth would it be
when you and I sit together-
this grand old river of good wishes
like the meeting table in between us

Tonight, the world is too drenched,
the unmoved earth too distilled
under films of rainy shades-
I dream, in such a soaked, sultry night

yet I return trudging
back to your port-
knee deep water
where sorrows sport,

Some good cracks
tired walls, now you're
black and blue-

Dear words,
once my playmate
too lovely and bold,
now drifted so far and slips

Monsoon clouds are now rising vision.
its fantastic is piled up in disharmony,

the far-off towers and porches

My soul now lies
in brown hours
like the unravished letter
trapped inside a brown envelop.

Yesterday I told
I love you.
Previous day I told
I love you.


Tamed my eyes
i've tamed my waters
gargling water, bursting bubbles
that snipped my rest,

Let's be good revellers
and in the funny winds loll,
sipping frivolty from glasses of poetry:
one causeless mutter

Hold your grief:

this pull of sorrow must be reined -

For the last nine days
I watched him at his intense toil,
minutely depositing basest substance
at his best will and stubbornness-

One harvest 's done,

waiting in hand

I set to question my love,
and saw
like a child I gathered up

So many miles,
so many miles-
you sprouted high
with all green endowments:

The Best Poem Of Rites Ghosh

Verbs And Nouns Of Love

Keep these verbs
you may require them
to bend a steel of wrath-
sharp weapons from behind
grow flashy: into wounds
they strike certainty of destruction.

Be sure, that I may not come-
not even my surreal shadows
from this portion
of your soft yellow light.

These nouns that once
acted hopefully
like a complacent boatman
to steer our way of love-
floated us down in the divine stream-
washed our nights and days,
our burning suns and cloyed moons-
with surfs and salts of life,
see whirl of doom.

When you prefer to run down north
south must be left behind-
and fade unknown...
when brooding flowers
will fill your hands
trees'll gape empty
and suffer neglect of our eyes...

Love the rhyme and vision of north,

keep the flowers' hues on your eyes-

but before that
you have to prove others futile-

Take these verbs,
those throttling nouns
to mend your weapon speech

They will perish your old choices
under new sun.

Be rife with arguments
like old Roman friend, Brutus.

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