Pradip Chattopadhyay

Jul 2024

Marshal Gebbie

Often pulled the Dragon's tail
Through dangers days in life's travail,
Sweet, the taste of risk survived
Whilst cheating Reaper's plot, contrived,
Feeling hot sweat crease the brow
Not understanding... why or how?
Chance, that fickle, flighty touch
May push my luck, that inch too much....
Then knowing well, on that fine day,
I'll meet my bitter end...and pay!

Ha... Wouldn't change a minute of it all,
Love it!!

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ

Response in league wit Anais Vionet's little ditty, "Curtains".

Pradip Chattopadhyay Jul 2024

Love is never short of script

Her offer of herbs
would soon wilt in the sun.

A few soiled notes
if she may gather at the end
can make her come back
every morn
with the garden fetch.

Sixteen rupees,
she raises her doe eyes,
our palms blush in the exchange.

She smiles, you are a rupee short.

Love is never short of script.

Jul 2024

Sally A Bayan

Dignified Silence

~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~~~

This summer's heat was worse,
problems are at their extremes,
burning, like undying embers.

Murmurs in government, in
public and private communities,
create chaos.

Repetition, initiates a desire
to walk away from what upsets
even for a while...some just

Laugh things off, too tired of
useless smiles and handshakes,
some get fed up, walk away, and

Go to the waters, to the shores
filled with voices crying for peace,
seeking justice.

Throughout our struggles...the
battles we fight, we always must
maintain a dignified silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We deserve some respect
no matter
what.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monsoon season has come,
soon...rain will pour and
shall inundate.

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 8, 2024

#heat #problems #water #shore #voices #dignified #silence

Pradip Chattopadhyay Jul 2024

Someplace Else

Sometimes I feel so sad
burdened with the invisible
crying between heavy sighs
breaking under pain of a misty loss.

I'm alone in those times
under a sky of long past
in a place where moments gather dust
with faces I pine to see again.

Envelopes me a darkness
as thick as the feather of raven
stifling suffocating all I have
making what I lost on the way
golden treasures.

Sometimes I feel so sad
weighed like a blade of grass beneath brick
crying upon this passage a while
rowing rivers into the sea.

Pradip Chattopadhyay Jul 2024

Towel

Almost tattered with oil spots and all
when it was gifted I really can't recall
the colors are faded the surface rough
but in my possession is no better stuff.

The smell is old with layers of years
wiped bath water, sweat and tears
rubs me tender whispers sweetly
in love with you please don't leave me.

My old buddy without a name
hugs my skin covers my shame
post the showers it's been my muse
still not useless from years of use.

Why it's so special why can't I leave
the torn old thing holds love I believe
the touch of love that's never really gone
in a parting gift from the father to the son.