The same way I tricked my mind to love you,
In spite of  all the red flags and emotional torture,
Is the same way I'll  trick my mind to hate you.

It's the night before they took him down
Imagine the damage
From when they take him down
The yanks of tired agony
Gainst the nails and the wood
The type of suffering
That is scarce
Understood.

Live every moment.
7/3/2025

In every flower
There is a poem
In a garland
There's poetry

Pastel similes
Bright metaphors
Sweet allusions
Quaint allegories

In every flower
There is a poem
For every season
And every day

A song of Spring
A verse of winter -
And all that life
Brings your way.

This month I call you Saviour.

Mostly, instinctively
I call to you as Lord-God and Father.
Typically these are the names
I call to mind at early dawn.

But this month you are Saviour
as I become more acutely drawn
to my need to call on your saving grace
to draw on your sacrificial willingness
to cast off the trappings
wrapped up with heavenly glory
to embrace the blood and the mess
that comes with small town nativity
and ultimate betrayal in the big city.

This month I address my Hosannas
to you, my loving, risen Saviour.

I’m a Bengali in sombrero
An Indian from Kolkata
I live at a stone’s throw
From where flows the Ganga.

I speak in Bengalee
For me the sweetest language
Like the Ganga flows freely
Has Sanskrit as lineage.

Rice is my staple food
So are dal and fish
A cup of tea is too good
With two biscuits on a dish.

Around me spreads green countryside
Where grows all the foodgrain
Rivers flow wild and wide
Their banks home joy and pain.

I was born and reared in this riparian land
Where soil is tilled in peasants’ sweat
Sparkles in moon the Bay’s white sand
Weaving dreams for many a poet!