Lord Krishna had told long time ago-
Grave words like the sea not hollow:
"In the time of industrial & modern age,
People would be the birds in a golden cage:
Where they'd born with the wings colouring
But they'd forget the tune of how to singing,
People of modern time would be heartless
They'd be the cause of blame, never confess!
Science & technology would touch the apex
But the root of it like the dead tree fakes,
All sayings would be inactive fantastical
As a hand contains bloodless & acute nail,
People during modern age would be the king
And wish to govern over vassals very tiring,
When all strengths would subject to ash
And blood would submerge into flesh,
Only a MANTRA would come sailing by-
Hare Krishna & I'd be there being the moonlike eye."

The night full of moons, a firefly
Came flying with bright light and I
Was pursuing her all the night.

But vain, where I went along
Like fading away of nightingale song,
I saw a dancing boat's sail.

The moon was glowing more
Than the another day, the door
Of my heart caused her to sway.

The light of the firefly I followed
Made me rich beyond the dream of odd,
She was more sweeter than the cream.

The air was so gentle to the firefly
And suddenly she came to cry,
Later I knew Agnitanaya was her name.

Soul whispered, "you're in the desert,
Upon the sand you're drawing art,
Thus the night declared morning.

Now I know I was searching a fellow,
It was nothing but a dark shadow,
Although I felt her pleasure and lark.

(Agnitanaya: the daughter of fire)

Life is incomplete
If it is defined as:
'Absent of poetry, and lack
Of feelings'.

We are characters of different
Stories,
The earth is the stage colored
With tears or gold,
We have been made.
This is a kind of book
And the author of its is the Almighty

Ujjal Mandal, India

On a spring morning the sweet
smell of newly clad blossoms
coated with dew and honey,
I saw a maiden tugging
a ivory comb through her long
and smooth tresses
beneath a tree;
I approached to her.
Oh, she was more florescent than the moon
of the night,
Flowers stoop to her beauty,
such beauty I never have seen nor
I felt before,
I agree to gobble up the poison
of her charm and daintiness.

A dry leave reminds us the past
glory of the tree,
in the same way a lonely heart
tells us the days of love full
of joy and happiness in the past.

Each night I say good night
to the moon,
and she comes to me in my dream
exploring her warm love,
but I can't feel her.