Subroto Chatterjee Poems

Should I write? I’m afraid I will,
I twirl my pen in a complex ride
As I sit on my window-sill,
to forget how my dreams have died.
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The scorching sand is set to die
beneath the tree-shaded sky;
Experience life’s dark and light,
and don’t give up without a fight.
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[This elegy is in honor of a senior colleague on his first death anniversary]


Now tell me another story,
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'Twas not a rose,
Though it had thorns.
Was it a pose?
Was it a con?
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“Right, ” I said, “I have the key,
To unlock all your melancholy.”
“No, ” he said, “Let it be;
That’s now become a part of me.”
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Send out the word
The Poet is rising
If thou has not overheard,
Tis poetry’s new uprising!
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[What's happening in world business is going to happen all the time. Why not? We are humans! ]

Eternal Bliss of the Sapient Mind
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Our democracy is of Olympian proportions,
Basking in glory under a thousand suns;
Painted faces and political distortions,
She has had a long run.
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No man is an island,
No more than he can be;
Above the water lies the land,
Not all is lost at sea.
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“If you plant honesty, you’ll reap trust”
Aye, the seeds of doubt have been planted,
But such doubts are a must,
If wisdom’s to be granted…..
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