priyanka-bhowmick
Indian
Priyanka Bhowmick is a poet, wife, blogger, amateur photographer and online freelance writer. Born in Tezpur, a small town in Assam. She spent several years, from schooling to married life, in Tangla, Tezpur, Khairi (H.P.) and Guwahati. Her works are published in several newspapers and online journals like Sketchbook, Fried eye, Assam Tribune, Cynic Mag, Vox Poetica, Boloji, Muse India, Shamrock Haiku Journal, A handful of stones, etc.
I write
therefore
I am insane-
not in the sense that I am nuts
or I get mad around and trouble people
but I stay lost-
lost in my words and meditations-
I converse around with an empty sheet of paper
and mock it with my pen
so that it can verbalize
and dribble out its pain
or may be happiness.
I write
to nourish my soul
with my ever-growing
and never ending insanity
Normal people speak
and gossip all day long
to gratify themselves
but I do not
so what?
I write
therefore
I am insane.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 11:01 AM UTC
My eyes were watery
you did not see
and turned blind.
I kept expecting
care and love
that you never showed
and kept yourself busy
in your so- called office works.
Today I stand
somewhere beyond
that you ever thought of
and now you seek for
my closest attention
to focus on you
rather on my tasks.
You pretend to be the key person
but your are not
for you never cared
for your family
and kept yourself aloof.
I- a compassionate
an amorous-
woman.
You- a ****
a lackadaisical-
a workaholic man.
Mar 16, 2011
Mar 16, 2011 at 8:18 AM UTC
She subsists in the cosmos of glamour.
Her eyes twinkle and eyelashes jiggle within the veil of the darkening mascara.
Her body glistens like the presence of phosphorous
Igniting the hearts for her swains.
She is among the stars synthesizing us to be powerless of reaching.
Her body moves like a mermaid pretending herself to be exclusive.
Her lips flutter words those are meant to be listened with sheer fascination,
and cannot be agitated.
Reigning her world she pretends herself to be the empress.
She makes, as well as breaks the hearts of a million,
Forbidding them to remonstrate.
She trends among the unknown with her charming attire- She is the moon.
Carried away by fame she shines,
Under her spell the hearts get enchanted too soon.
Mar 16, 2011
Mar 16, 2011 at 8:16 AM UTC
Way to the lane
Sam stood under a tree
waiting for Jane
says to himself, "I love thee."
Sunshine furnished the day
it was half past eleven
Sam frenzied and gay
for he will get to tryst Jane.
Past the lane was a park
where lovers hummed songs of love
along with the tune of larks
beneath the heaven above.
Sam walked to and fro
eyeing on the lovers kiss
dreamt of kissing Jane's eyebrow
something he never wanted to miss.
Minutes passed into hours
and Sam worried presently
for Jane's arrival undiscovered
he calls her hurriedly.
Jane's mobile rings aloud
awaiting Sam for the response
some questions maked Sam doubt
he stormed towards her home at once.
On the way his phone rings
immediately picking it up
he says, "Jane!!", curiously
the voice of an unknown cop.
Asking, "Is this Mr. Sam?"
"Yes, it's Sam," he replies
Cop says, "I found your number with this Ma'am,
Middle of the road she died."
Sam stunned and shocked
with a shaky voice he asks, "Where are you calling from?"
Cop replied, "Before highway, near shop Reebok"
and Sam destined for the zone.
Reaching there he finds her carcass
while returning with gifts
sweet Jane crashed with a bus
while she was running swift.
Shattered Sam stood still
his mind freezed and tears dried
woven dreams at once killed
dark clouds defeated light.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 3:44 AM UTC
while walking
the glimpse of a maple leaf
I remember your poem
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 3:25 AM UTC