Sailing of Life
Another leaf has been expelled,
Either yellow or green,
Another feather from each bird,
Flying calmly to their nests,
Extinguished another candle,
To shorten the path of breath,
Still, loves fixing the knot here,
Enhancing some new quests.
Time sailing ahead confronting,
The waves of loss and gain,
If tears measure the height of joy and joy the depth of pain,
Life’s standards always ascending up,
With new chapters,
If some enhance the knowledge,
Some give lessons on cryptic explanations.
Sabina Alia,
Via e-mail.
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Eerie and Wild
From now on; and forever,
The leaves of autumn; red, orange and crimson have turned grey;
Autumn is shrewd; you were the last fall;
Winter has snatched away my warmth;
Amidst the heap of worn clothes; your smell lingers on;
I sleep clad in your jacket for hours end;
An ignited soul; my guardian angel;
Who shall I read my poetry to?
I have called your name a million times;
All I could hear; a deafening echo;
The noisy silence is eerie and wild;
You were brave; you fought and fought;
You are a metaphor;
I framed a picture of you; the one you liked most;
My father smiling happily;
I talk to you every day; do you listen?
Where are you?
The candle is burning; the moon is shining;
The night is calmer now;
I feel like running to the cemetery!
Debapriya Baruah,
Via e-mail.
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The Light I Touched
Do you feel the same
When the sun is so bright,
That you close your eyes
And, still, the brightness pierces
Through your eyelids;
Soft and warm,
Calm and powerful,
Lazy and energetic,
Like you touched the light
That touched you,
Like a mother to her newborn?
Do you feel
The same light,
I touched?
Kriti Chetri.
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Silence
I like silence,
In silence, I find the sweetness of life;
In silence, latent talents have the opportunity
To develop;
Silence is like the
Background to a creation;
Where my heart and brain unites
And realises transcendence;
Preludes artful creation
In the prelude I write:
All people are equal;
No matter how big or small.
Heramba Nath,
Kamrup.
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Frozen Night Tales
My grail is astounding in the evening flakes
The setting sun, in Southern-West, still ablaze.
Yet, another day has passed on…
On its customary schedule of smothering!
In an attempt of the pinnacle, sometimes
Life and its sensation cry; without shedding a drop;
What an irony, just draught and dry.
Ah! Let me welcome the cold of the night,
Sauntering amidst the snowy woods
Gazing at that twinkling sky, and listening
To the stars, as they sing the songs of love,
And there my home awaits to hear
Some frozen night tales, for that hope!
Hope to walk an extra mile and then
Rest in the shelter; sit and talk
In the warmth of the mantelpiece,
Where the steam of a cup of tea
Is fondled in a long breath of peace.
Partha Pratim Goswami,
Hyderabad.
