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To my Grandchildren, those great and beyond,
  whom I will never meet

Know that I love you and have seen you in the
  eyes of your parents when they were very small
  
I’ve heard your voices in the trees, when the
  wind blows softly calling my name as I walk

I’ve seen your arms reaching out to me in my
  dreams, as you cry “Papa" and then drift away

Your spirit is mine, as my spirit is yours; and no
  lifetime can keep us apart

I watch over you now and will watch over you then,
  whenever the need is great

I’m that voice you hear when no one else listens, and
  no one else understands

And the heart that feels what you will feel, when no
   one else seems to care

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
“a decade old is forever new, for
truth is never old.”
Pradip Chattopadhyay 


this man, ten years of inspiration, ten years of friendship, here,
on HP,
provides nourishment to my lagging body as it nears eight decades
of Earthly occupation, for
his eyes and heart and his mastery
of the songs of the tongue,
have wrenched me straight,
we, attentive to the tears
he makes me weep, for his insights penetrate my insides,

even now as one, unexpectedly, reflects midst
yet another first poem of the day, my eyelids blink away
the wet,
my brain revels at his pithy, how he corrals,
encapsulates the daily smoke and fire of life,
it truest value,
in words that make one wonder,

what admixture of mineral, chemical, history,
adventures, atmosphere, parentage, spices,
love gives him these super powers to gentle
seize the moment, size our souls, causing my
cheeks to wide smile, while mine eyes sheds
monsoon droplets of feelings so deep, that
my repaired heart oxygenates my very soul,
making me high, my mind reels that a day will
come inevitable
that one of us will be unable to sit by side,
swapping tales of granddaughters, and
other earth meaningful events, to walk his
streets or he, mine, finishing each other’s
couplets.

to think that I awoke with no intention of
composing this paean, but his brief pearl
knocks my head side to side,
and with the
tears, come words,
that age, or an entire
decade,
cannot restrain,
retrained to modesty,
for regarding my friend
Pradip,

my boundaries expand and cannot be
contained, even by my delimited vocabulary,
the paucity of my skill, the insufficiency of
the adjectives acquired over a lifetime, but
do my unequal-to-the-task best efforts,
but without choice, but compulsed, compelled,
one more time, to say,
to my new day,
perhaps my last,
I love this poet~man.
this is one of my truths.
<>
Wed Jan 17 8:31am
City of New York

<>

read the poetry of
https://hellopoetry.com/pradip-chattopadhyay/
<>
truth is never old.” Pradip Chattopadhyay  lipstadt
One evening, in a sleepy Connecticut town, the locals saw a peculiar sight,
a UAP had landed in an empty field, and man, it lit up the night.

They were, axiomatically, from a distant galaxy, here to explore our shared cosmic space,
their metallic-*******-rocket was multicolor pastel bright, like a carnival showcase.

There were cows that mooed approvingly and dogs that barked up at the sky,
like they needed to show where the thing came from - no one really knew why.

Soon little green people-like beings emerged, they had big, wide eyes that looked eerie,
but then again, this is how they’d always looked in movies and on TV.

"Take us to your leader," they said, but it was hard to take them seriously,
because this is America and most of us disagree on who that leader should be.

Someone brought out lawn chairs and the alien-astronauts settled in,
tables appeared shortly thereafter with a spread of pies, casseroles and fried chicken.

They spoke of their interstellar journeys, of planets far and wide,
of space cafes and wormhole highways and how gravity worked like tides.

One of the kids played some music and the explorers started to move,
soon we were having a dance-off - which they won - with some wacky, cosmic moves.

As morning light edged the horizon, our little green friends waved goodbye,
after saying that in some ways they envied us and our simple terrestrial lives.

Though they never promised to revisit, when the sky turns certain shade of blue,
townsfolk will set up a pasture party - just in case they do.
(*BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Axiomatic: something understood as obviously true*)
the wild west's still with us
it isn't gone at all
8 shot inside a high school
11 at the mall

Tombstone is no longer
Dodge City, it's now dust
But, the wild west's still with us
Believe me...in disgust

They no longer use revolvers
And have show downs in the streets
They've moved it to the school room
Where children hide beneath their seats

The press are there like vultures
The NRA cries foul
11 dead inside the mosque
But people wail and howl

They've the right to carry guns
You can't take that away
So, when you explain that to their folks
Just what do you say?

The wild west's still with us
It's a fact, that's true
It's not the same as it once was
This wild west is new

Shootings in the workplace
Shootings at the schools
Shooting in the churches
Are there any rules?

Each night the news is showing
A new shooting, it won't stop
The shooter dies a victim
And it's always death by cop

The wild west's still with us
It isn't gone at all
7 dead inside the church
11 at the mall
The Tiara is back on the dresser.
My party shoes are on the floor.
The clock is well past midnight
And I’m the Birthday Girl no more.

My day was rendered as perfect
Everything went just as planned.
There were no major mix-ups -
A blessing from God’s divine hands.

The floats were created from magic
They were stunning in their appeal
The roses in so many colors made
It hard to believe they were real.

The bands each outdid the others
Their Tubas lined up in big rows.
The flag girls and pompoms were twirling;
Drum Majors were putting on shows.

The weather was cold in the morning
But warm in the late afternoon.
My tiara caught other’s attention
And that sent me over the moon.

We ended the day at the movies
To watch whatever was playing
“The Aquaman” was a debacle
That’s only if I’m kindly saying.

This birthday is etched in my mem’ry
A diamond among yearly pearls.
A treasure bestowed by a loved one
Who crowned me the luckiest girl.
                        ljm
Best Birthday ever.
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