Saturday, 14 January 2017

AN EFFIGY TO BE HELD ALOFT

I can say anything I like,
I can promise anything I retrieve,
I can declare anything I envisage,
You are at liberty to examine me,                                             
No matter to me if you believe me.
No matter to me if you distrust me,
                                             
I do not mind if you discard me,
Your verdict upon me is conducive,
On this platform I do hold authority,
You can retain universality,
It may differ to my concept,
Contradiction is way of life.

Imagine I am like an effigy,
To guard golden paddy field,
I stand against corn theft or
To be eaten away by tricky birds,
I love birds, they may come around
My temple that I built for masses.

You crack a water layer, and
I put one glass barrier, and compress you
So as to not to get you involved in flares
That can burn vessels, and can disrupt my fair ride,
Because you cannot judge a swallowing black hole,
On the foreground where I am all in dominance,
I judge blotted whims and show all your plums.

How many of you can think of an act
That when expressed can tarnish minds of people,
Yet you cannot speak of it in loud voice
But I can use that table as doormat,
It is my way to act according to my will,                                  
So that any joke I make is vocabulary to the extreme,

I can create an effigy of my own
You have to worship it even if you improvise it,
Many people just think to give this effigy
To their next generations those who, in turn, be delighted
To know that history has turns, heroes are created on trial,

On capturing images of this effigy to be held aloft. 

Wednesday, 11 January 2017

Culture, religion and tour at Tarapith, West Bengal, India, on the eve of New Year 2017.


 BLESSINGS

He does believe
Dogs are not only domesticated
But also figuring out to be the form of God,
And when this stray dog came suddenly
To his side, that he did not mistake it
As it is a casual loyalty.  He rendered
His hands to cover the dog by a black shawl,
To protect it from winter weather,
Till the dog disappeared on its own,
And he is overwhelmed in its sudden
Appearance and thinks he is blessed
By heaven to have this opportunity by TARA MA. 

Note: It happened to me to be present at Tantric temple and its adjoining cremation grounds (where sādhanā are performed - Wikipedia) at Tarapith, Birbhum district, West Bengal, INDIA, on the eve of 1st January, 2017 when TARA MA SANGHA, Shyamazar, Kolkata organized 40th anniversary there with colorful events and I have enjoyed it and took snap shots and a short video recording of those events. -  Asim Kumar Paul, 07.01.2017

Sunday, 8 January 2017

SONGS OF SHRI KRISHNA

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare,
Hare Rama, Hare Rama,
Ram Ram Hare Hare,

They sang words
About Krishan
To fill all hearts
With blessing of Krishna,
Happiness in mind,
Misery to be abandoned
To remain gleeful
With kindness to the world,
Not binding in a room,
But to travel with peace,
Across home and the world,
Without disguise,
But free with everyone,
To endure pathos,
To live with energy and dream,
Miracle is in our hearts,
And we can dwell in melodies of life.


Saturday, 24 December 2016

LOVE FOR THE NEW YEAR 2017

She spends time in making herself softer
In every move and breathing by learning,
Transforming, perfecting, controlling self,
Through coverage of web idols, blushing
Her beautiful, in sweet lips, in soft voice,
To be more beautiful, more attractive,
Responding to silence, to fill up space
With desire, the nature has created it
Through its charms and warmth,
She thinks she is not wrong on her grace.

She finds a listener many years walking
On snow, across a binding stretch, and
He can record all in dreaming, desiring,
Yet fails to display everything matching to
Her wishes, portraying as distant person,
Although having lovely expression, as
Chatting on social webs-sites does not imprint
Walking along virtual space over real stream,
Making her determined to walk along

For more interactions in the New Year sunlight. 

Sunday, 18 December 2016

DISPOSABLE MAN

My living standard is deteriorated gradually,
All favorite usable entities like electricity, internet, etc.
Are becoming costlier day by day and
I have to drop all of them from my usage
To go back to the land of marooned compostable,
I see that some people are enjoying them desperately.

Tricky measure comes forward to think about it,
So that I may engage whole time with this trick,
Edibles like fish, pork, mutton, chicken, vegetable,
As if, those are getting compostable, to me, in price tag,
As if I am not washable person, preserved to be disposable,
I see that some people are enjoying them desperately.

Am I one oversized man? Am I one odd man in intricacies?
Terrible situation over my head to look into
I have done nothing yet my path is complicated,
Neither a middleman, nor a grouping man,
Nor throng into violent species, yet I am treated
As disposable in this world of equal sharing resources.

My eyes get wide when I hear someone takes cake
With hot coffee, lunch with fish fingers, hot mutton curry,
I then open my window and see I have had once of
These edibles, my income was low with low price index,
Now I turn to bones, with low income, with high price index,
Only imagination, I live, someone exists lower to my income.

On otherness reality, I live; garbage plastic pickers are also living,
Without dole, without home, without mantra, only on struggling.
Beautiful earth, motherland, expectation, reluctance, swirling
Around every life, I am not so lucky to enjoy natural things,
Only walking through clouds, forget to observe inner beauty,
Deep breathing exults over burning smoke, satire to creativity.



Saturday, 17 December 2016

LOVELY DECEMBER



This morning, flowers make room for merriment,
No glass filter tantalizes dream in this moment,
Everyone thinks of love, pleasing guideline prevails,
No need of wailing, we try to clean up blot-entails.

Paddy corn grows golden, ripened for harvesting,
Words for humane values, erasing differences within,
Taking lovely December to dismantle worrisome masks,
You know what humane canvas looks like, in Merry Christmas.

Pous Utsava, a dream festival of Bengal comes every year
In VISVA BHARATI, a central university campus,
Founded by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore,
A colorful rural carnival blazons with multicultural ambiance.

How the earth takes blisters around its surface,
Without falling apart from its rotational gravity,
It can walk with petroleum burns, disastrous spots
Those are once hurling so many volcanoes from origin,

Atmosphere being bottom of carbon dioxide in the sun,
Blue becomes abysmal of illogical land space of tantrum,
Every time we come near extinction, yet we attend
The source of energetic breathing, and accumulate life span.  

Time gathers no dust; dream does not hold self-destruction,
We learn weeping by birth; the sun makes us enigmatic, to
Know the truth, even if we are maligned by our own faults,

We learn walking from where center of gravity teaches us balancing.   


Thursday, 15 December 2016

LOVING ATTITUDE



I cannot stand so high, after
Waking up in every morning,
In dream or in open eyes,
In gravity, in sunlight,
Like this coconut tree
As if it is coming from
Different planet in sense
That it always opens leaves
Like an umbrella, celestial rescuer,
Paying nothing to masters of locality.

Words, sand particles, mists -
All are like wavering systems
Around our dormitory, where
Buying and selling need voice
Of punctuality, errorless depiction,
For those who are not concern
With time, life, steadiness while walking.
I cannot touch your head,
Cannot meet your eyes,
Cannot adjust with your height,
It is like semblance of settling
With one integration having with us
In the nature of earth’s possession,
I have to learn how to brewing up

In silent loving attitude, standing alone.

BELIEF OF LOVE



This shadowy pond, with water glass in mist of long years,
For me, image of two fishes reminds golden time of the past,
One dancing around other one, becoming of touching wave,
Sign of love, now sigh of poor mind that bears emptiness,
Over woes of reminiscence towards corner of my heart,
Blue hue picture with closed episode, endless search in bosom.

Last morning one bird came in there guided by UFO for surfing
On water, in the universe of loving zone, yet to know it,
I just make one thwarting mistake by pelting pebbles in wave,
Strong enough for waves not to hold that bird’s chirping of
Its loving bosom, it did not create pride to acquire its heart,
Paradise and justice are not stony pebbles in belief of love.