Thursday, 10 August 2017


As if rib-cage –
perceived pain-drops pouring in –
because enough pain makes a pool,
with rain-drops.

Inside remote of heart, the blue
steps in with its breathing, and
forgets to rebel, as if it is locked
inside green edge over cold wind.

Fruits do not get maturity,
in some weighing scale,
images quieted by mind’s mirror.
Clouds wandering far below.

Tuesday, 8 August 2017


Grown from the perceptible loving flow,
Grown from the teary passage over the bridge,
Open with the loving children dream ground,
Everyone drives with hope and passion,
In our minds and eyes for earthly justice,
Through the fear and tears of catastrophe,
Sometimes we are scared, sometimes
We are benefited with style of silver sun.

Time creates events. She creates one event after reading her heart with her motherly feeling, because she lost her child in an accident. It is time of reviewing of loving bond. It is destiny of changing events. Some events cannot be frozen, because moving like birds always is everything as none wants to be ended. and there are programs when students gather to sing for a cause in searching of living branches of memories along the way of collective symmetry in the nature, like, the sun, the earth, the moon fall in the line of this rotation, in silence, to form eclipse of the moon, even in a rainy night with hovering clouds around the moon, to open one event with one mystery key, a message with the nature towards opening of one fine morning with sweet chirping of birds.  

Tuesday, 1 August 2017


I do not tell of myself
I have so many questions,
“Are you married?”
“How old are you?”
“Have you children?”

My answers are all vague
because I cannot sing for life,
and I am lost one in love and sense,
from teen age and to my matured age
because they all betray of my life,

“ No worry, just I want to love
someone who feels to be silent
but who wants to fill mind of woman
who deserves to be his own,
and she said
-”I respect your privacy,
and I have two children
who are my love and hope
this will be yours too,
and here is something you can share
and me also. because love is ageless
and review is negative prorogation all time.
and I love you.”

Her grandson is her life and breathing.

That day all conversations ended.

Saturday, 17 June 2017


A poet is very happy
When someone smiles with happiness
Holding the poet’s book of poetry,

Getting denied to sharing a dais,
During summer release of poetry books
Of poets arrived from different places of country,
At a venue, where he was also present,
His poems are not like poems of their choice,
No miracle is done in words,
All his moves are like ghost travels,
Shadows of termination,
Registration fees, the license of performing
On the dais, real advantage for anyone,
That he could not bound to acquire field,
And he strolls around the dais,
As if he walks with backward twist.
He does not venture to go forward,
And he returns home with timid gestures.

Our money relations,
Our poetry revelations
Have little difference in evolution.
If power of word fails to get living performance,
There is none to support life,

Beneath the silent evaluation of living. 

Saturday, 20 May 2017



Cool morning,
Summer sun,
Brown flower greets banana green,
Birth has roots down on the earth,
In the nature, none can obscure the sun,
Birth as a gift that travels like light,
With records of name, address, story,
No need to stop at doorsteps of ashes,
Because, scorching sunrays burn only
Pirate amoeba, infected, to immaculate a body,
Incidents flow like noun, across a sentence, 
With subject and predicate, spine in a body, 
So many bodies cannot travel on wings of light
And fall on the ground and are dispersed into two - 
Exorcism and hymns of spirits - different forms of
The first born, it brings bodies arranged in 
Hell and heaven, drifting away from origin,
Veiled attempt to hell, inward knowing
To heaven, and it makes morning sun scale gaze,
Language gets momentum, and it is noon when
All tests are done to burn stained attempts.
We owe longing,  and thereby whole essay so formed
Feeds contention, conclusion, far away
From ashes, as our eyes condemn burning
Of dreams, even if land becomes infertile,

That the nature suspects it cannot be. 

Thursday, 18 May 2017


“You are old; your arguments are not always justified,
A simple thing a child can do, you do not, please do not try.”

Different types of points, causes of criticism, honky sledge,
Hewing consequence, neglected dictum, old drapes, every day,

Lack of sunlight, dark threshold, living in angry spoofing,
Blowing wind through aged bones, no whispering, torn melody,

All good things snatched, a way formatted for relief from old turf,
Shouting, cleaver challenges, looking at airplanes is old-age dream.

Monday, 15 May 2017


I have last met with
Painter and artist Dwijen Gupta, when
He was suffering from Parkinson’s disease, and
Was honored and felicitated on 11.04.2017 by
Parkinson’s disease Patient’s Welfare Society, Kolkata.

Because art and poetry for aesthetic purpose
Are beauty in creative world, and
I was acquainted with him since 2005,
Because all my first three poetry books
Have cover layouts with art works of two
Renowned artists, Rabin Mondal and
Bijan Chowdhuri, and by the time I learnt
Designing from his methods of layout.   

Mr. Gupta passed away on 15.05.2017.
I first came to know it from artist 
Karunamoy Sur's post in Facebook.

My poetry brochure THE SIEGE (April, 2017)
Wherein three photos of his paintings was printed
Along with my poems, was virtually released
To honor the contemporary painter Dwijen Gupta
Who will remain as a smart creator and concentric to
Indian art work of his time and this era.

My humble honor to this legendary painter,

Dwijen  Gupta.

Amidst his own creations, he is still alive with an identity.
All eyes will be delighted first on his creations and paintings,
Marvel at tones of colors and imagination from heart of feelings. 
His works have foresight, sequences, thinking beyond at sight,
By bright rhetoric, leaving viewers fastened with everything
In the knowing world, within fair and silent story he told.
As if they listen to him, try to know his dream and aspiration,
The whole of flight he created, by hand with brush and colors.