on the grass-land
in-between
cast their shadows
once the folk-song
once the rare cotton
so much sky-kissing blue
are the horses of sunday
with glittering sunshine
on its white sail
the bird
that has flown from the corn-field
with a rosy balloon on its back
now in the evening of the girl
having her husband alive
the smell of salted turmeric
engrosses the cloth-end
not from so far-end
not in so much noise
coming nearer
in a more whispering voice
the mushroom of the lips
sees its face
in the green of rain-drops
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
the last tram passes away
the boy
who is the owner of every parted-kite
sits lonely on the empty bench of the park
and makes it enlightened
in one pocket
he has few pieces of dry breads
in another
the air to play on bamboo-flute
the night is filled with
mushroom
all the shout within the dialogues
gradually becomes weak
and vanishes
there is no tangle in the
hair
the bier of the hindu-satkar-samiti
runs away
causing a quake in the locality
some needles
small medium and big
are doing their morning-walk
on the thread-line
that is the secret of a phoenix
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:12 PM UTC
there are so many pieces of torn paper
into the stone-chips of the broken road
they are of summer
they are of late autumn
beside is the ice-mill
the glow-sign board
attached tightly
the indelible ink
catches the finger of the lemon-grass
the fish-market is also alive and glad
the young minister of state
sends his best wishes
to the handloom-girls
in between
some horn-blowing of the
camels
the labour-strike trembles
the water of dhaleswari-river
has been filled
with the sound of subsistence
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
The fairies of chaitra
lie on the un–wrinkled bed
with their backside up
in the hearsay of the air
once the woods of tamarisks
once the hill of paraffin
it appears there is no interruption
to this circus
the toy-telephones
hang from the cloud to cloud
from that carnival
take birth many kanthali-champa
the surgeon comes calmly
to the secret of darning
all localities are totally maddened
by the flow tide of the exudation
observing all those happenings
the half-broken wave
does awake on the sofa-set
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:07 PM UTC
for the ripple nearest to the heart
how much cherry-blossoms do you have
when you do swim
to full wings and feathers
the doors and windows of the black timber
do sit
keeping their eyes closed
the metallic rays of light
have to go back
into the blood-circulation of the blue mountain
what do you pray then from the
sea-gulls
is it the voice of the bees
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:05 PM UTC
the krishnachura and the champa
both of them
have the only-one unsheathed afternoon
both of them
have the same-one broken harmonium
how long more the eyes of terracotta
would roam in the sun
the uneven fate-line
is written on the green slate
the sound of the vocal chord is also eloquent
as if it were some bare trees of wood-apple
around the swimming
there are some scattered scrapes of slippers
the colour of whose straps
is blue
and some tales of the faded sky
i return home with the night of
phosphorus
i return with those waves of the
mid-night that have no translation
i lay them in order
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:03 PM UTC
some light of the former birth
glitters on the hand-fan
made up of palm-leaves
do the child boats of the pigeon-pea flower
go to them to learn the fountain
all over the room
the cobweb of fundamentalist spiders
the toy-train breaks the water colour
to run towards the oil-colour
and on both sides of its travelling route
there are so many advertisements
of tooth-paste
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:01 PM UTC
i pick up flowers from the pages of the calendar
and scatter them on the picture-frame
of my dwelling place
sometimes the spring comes
sometimes the buddhist monastery
along the pitch road of the city
thousand counts of uproars
the mess-building that is situated
on the top of the coconut-tree
has also joined the march-past
and who miss the last train
i offer them glasses of tea
as an anti-war campaigning
the plastic-made afternoons
hoist the flag of nail-polish
as there is no water-bottle
around your neck
the assembly of choosing
one’s bridegroom oneself
has rejected you
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:23 PM UTC
in the light of the hassac-lantern
the screaming becomes thoroughly interesting
in the about-to-vanish forest-land
the nocturnal shopping hangs vertically
can you be able to get searched
some white-holes under the unfathomable water
then the visiting river should not take tablets
to manage it blood-pressure
now from the window of the town
look at the running away of the
tyre-less motor-cars
and their changing of colours
every now and then
as if after a successful operation
the new ant-hills
are singing and dancing very much
within so much noise
some spoons remain quite indifferent
it is heard that a lawsuit challenging the legal-status
of their relation with the prickle is being proceeded
in an open court
even standing before the court’s dock
no green mango has told the truth
so to do a usg report of the pendulum
that remains static under the dream
has become very much necessary
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
1.
i may call it a leaflet
i may call it a handbill
but don’t you notice
a large number of gossips
is natant in the air
do you admit that the fuming heart
that’s glorifying the plate
should be made a must-read
for any seed-bed
the sun tells that to keep-fit
the health of the clouds
the instigation of the perfumed-soap
is required
with that pituitary
some neighing of horses
that is fastened tightly with cork
now see
if you can offer pregnancy
even to the barbie doll
by the by
it should be informed here
if the question of roaming in the woods
is raised
the highly-educated bathroom
feels very helpless
and taking repeated somersaults
in the sunshine
in the rains
the folding umbrella
also have got very much out-of-temper
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:20 PM UTC