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  Nov 2017 RiBa
Elizabeth Squires
a sole butterfly
lightly pirouettes around
the floral garden
  Oct 2017 RiBa
Pradip Chattopadhyay
My friend failed the appointment
and I had this man beside me
with untimely heavy woolen
peering into the condensed haze
of that October evening.

Being alone is scary,
the hoarse voice melted the silence
and being alive sometimes scarier
than not being
,

he paused as if
the words had drained him

when you hope it the most
and none turns up
to feel and fill you
.

The fog had almost devoured the halogen
leaving me only with the voice.

It's uneasy, I spoke at last,
isn't it weird to be talking
without being seen
?

Not in the least,
his laughter rattled the slumberous air
the world long turned away its face
from the face beside you
.
RiBa Oct 2017
The luminescent stars
Grace the inky firmament
Diamonds glistening in the night
And Quiet flows the River

Broad and mighty
A Boudicae, wounded in a million wars
And yet beauteous and kind
Gently flows She.

Her sacred touch rejuvenates
Graceful as Diana
She meanders amidst pain and strife
And flows ethereally

Oh Ganga, thy beauty is divine
The Baul sings
Oh Giver of life! Bless me eternally
And Silently flows She.
Ganga - indian name of the Ganges river
Baul - a wandering bard who sing in the villages of Bengal
  Oct 2017 RiBa
AngshumanChakravarty
I Dig, You Dig, We Dig,
They Dig...

It's not a beautiful poem,
But it's very deep.
  Oct 2017 RiBa
Echo Floating
I passed a quiet hour today,
Watching people in a Café.
The studious girl with her homework spread,
Glancing sideways at the clique she'd rather join instead.
The middle-aged woman licking lips as she swiped,
Was it tinder, shoes or pastries on her notepad flying right?
The couple not speaking so engrossed in their phones,
Only acknowledging each other when it was time to go home.
The trio of yummy mummies, dressed carefully to ****,
Smudging lipstick on caramel lattes - politely competing to pay the bill.
I watched them all quietly,
Each tableau a one-act play.
On my last sip the curtain fell,
I rose and paid. Went my own way.
RiBa Oct 2017
Gently blows the wind
Like the caress of long lost love
I sigh with pleasure
Behold!

The languid moon
Weaves its tapestry on the forest floor
I tread on ****** paths
In the woods unexplored

Whose woods are these? I know not
Whose sonorous voice i hear?A siren of yore.
A midnight angel is nigh
I swoon.

And so this wonderous scene
Plays on in the magical night
Surrounds me in a beatific glow
And i awake from a dream so sweet.
Inspired by the great william wordsworth
  Oct 2017 RiBa
Pradip Chattopadhyay
Shadows are taller
run-ups are smaller
throws don't go any far

morale is lower
bat moves slower
no more can hit a sixer.

Muscles aren't sturdy
movement is tardy
lethargic feet hardly run

only lean patches
missed easy catches
nobody says well done.

Can't see it clear
from daze of fear
fumbles my unsteady bat

the opponents dance
they don't miss a chance
the field shouts how's that!

I have a feeling
this body ain't willing
to run on the green anymore

yet the ****** mind
still hopes to find
one last three figure score.
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