I wasn't able to
keep a count of all the seasons,
that faded.
But, Lo!
Few uncountable nights ago,
I ate my lacerated heart
and buried my perdition caught soul
in that neglectful garden of mine.
The disenchanted banyan tree now stands there
stitching shadows into that morbid ground.
The passing wind tells me
how they have cremated me in my verses.
Ah!
What a tragedy?!
These shameless verses of my poetry,
that is Greek to me now.
murdered me vehemently
in that Orchestra of the muse.
Jul 16, 2021
Jul 16, 2021 at 5:11 AM UTC
I write,
To free the burden --
Of this burdening existence,
From mine existence.
But, Alas!,
My ink is cursed.
My pen is rural.
And
My wits..
My wits are illiterate.
Still,
I write.
I burn myself.
I rise.
I write.
©Barsha kumar
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
Tomorrow,
The streaks of light
Of the ruly sun,
Will pierce the cottony clouds
Again,
And they'll have
Some uncountable cold bodies
Bathed in blood,
Festooning those parched roads,
Again,
Whom they'll welcome
Again,
With:
Seared throat- choked with grief
Lacerated hearts- bleeding pain
And with,
Shivering bodies, where fear has pinned itself-
With helplessness,
In every single pore of their barren skin,
To witness this naked dance of inhumanity
And the nefarious slaughter of humanity!
©Barsha Kumar
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
These waves of wind
Travelling through those wintry forest
Are now suffused with venoms,
'Cause my love!
It now carries no longer
Thy musky fragrance;
That makes my heart
Gulp those dregs of blood-
Festooning the pale white sockets
Of these myopic eyes,
That has shared those brief moments with sorrow,
While love was transmuted
Into torrent of agonizing agony,
By the venomous stings of treacherous destiny.
Ah! This web of life
Has weaved this barreness of pain
For this baby *****
That makes me burn myself
Like the incense of patience
To redolent my bed of existence
With the hankering of death,
Till it gets entombed by my silenced grave.
©Barsha Kumar
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
O', my despondent Love!
You were the Prayer;
Nebulous to these eyes
Illegible to these lips,
You were the prayer
With the Verses,
That my Heart Recited
Every Divine night,
When Those Tranquil Rays of Moon
Embraced the Rising Waves Of Ocean,
When The Zephyrs
Caressed The Earth,
When the Galaxies
Slumbered in the Lap of Universe;
Listening to the Lullabies of Silence,
You were the Prayer, Whose Verses-
Were indited by the Crimson Ink
Of my Pen,
Yes, you were the Prayer of my Life,
That fulfilled the Wish
Of Igniting the Candle of Rue,
In the Temple of-
Euthenia,
On the Lands of Famines!!
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 4:33 AM UTC
And now I distance people,
Because: My back is lacerated,
And my memories are fading,
To provide me the antidote;
But honed enough,
To abrade my lacerated wounds,
Squeeze me out,
And make me moan,
To flog pain in my skin;
As the tattoo,
That fills me
With excruciating ecstasy;
Holding every stabs
Designed over me;
And too much of myself,
To be forgotten!
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC
And now I consume myself,
Because it now only
Mimics the filthy past;
Drinks from the river of pain,
To become the sea of pain;
Open its arm wide,
To embrace grief;
Veil itself with darkness,
To slumber in silence;
Hums the hymn of life,
To deter death,
When they are the twin soul,
Merging into each other;
Wants to stand naked in the winds,
To get fondled with hopes-
That have been buried
Long ago beneath the white snow,
In the mountain top,
To shower
Dreams of eternity,
To the meek hearts;
Dancing in the rhythm
Of sorrow,
To sail through
Today,
To tomorrow,
To meet the shadow,
That walks with the spirit
Of soul,
For the sake of love;
To lie in rest,
With the moaning dust,
Beneath the earth!
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 4:29 AM UTC
Her footprints remained
In his life, like the footprints
Of "Al-khaleel" at "Maqaam Ibraheem";
Bestowing him peace,
And guiding him, through
The dark alleys of life.
And his footprints remained
In her life, like the "lotus footprints",
That washes her heart with love,
And rejuvenate her soul,
With the light of memories;
Enwreathed by happy moments.
Ah! Separated by destiny,
They were still united in their memories;
Playing their roles of life,
With utmost loyalty;
Because,
She was Hermoine to her Harry Potter,
And, he was Harry Potter to his Hermoine!
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC