"goswami" poems
Cricket Ladies now pull up their socks
From the Sub-Continent to the Spring Boks
But a question of mine,
Not of length nor of line,
I wonder, do they require a box?
Some say that I need to take a pill
But I've watched and the ladies have skill
They get many things right
And their bowling is tight
And of cricket I just can't get my fill.
For now England are right out on top
All Australians would like that to stop
If they get much better
My pants will get wetter
Being British, I'm scared we will flop.
But England, to India, must fly
Where the pitches will be ever so dry
Not won there before,
Not sure, did we draw?
Beware Goswami, for she is quite spry.
Holly Colvin the new queen of spin
She does not know quite how to give in
The Taylors are great
The fielding, first rate
Come on girls, you know you can win!
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 11:00 PM UTC
True beauty is not always seen
True beauty needn't be external
True beauty is in our individuality
In you, in me, in all of us.
It is in the glittering eyes.
In a squab learning to fly
We just need to look for it
No matter where it lies
True beauty is in love
True beauty is in forgiving
Even if we do not desire to...
It is in laughter, in smile
It is a hope, in which no reasons pile
True beauty is in clean mind, in pure heart
True beauty is in the singing breeze,
Racing water,
Dancing trees
True beauty can never be perfectly
And completely defined,
It is in you, in me, in all of us,
From dawn to dusk....
-Soumya Goswami
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 3:14 AM UTC
Let me make your life easy
Now that you making so many efforts
To end mine
Guns, Pistols, Bombs and your own body
So considerate , so kind.
So let me help,
Let me whet my trepidation
Lacerate my flesh, from inside
Let me batter my silly quivering, numb
Let me assure them ,they will be insensate
It is only a matter of time.
Meanwhile,
Tell me how would you like it?
Mere flesh soaked in ****** quagmire
Silent in death , heeding to you instruction manual
Or
Crisp shrills rising in cacophonous notes
Reciting curses in quandaries, jabbing your fiend inside
Or
should i use my imaginations
On 'how to ruin my own life?'
So behold and hold
My veins from the end
And haul towards your side,
Twist to cause added agony
Or may be crush my lungs
To hasten me out of my life
See my insipid blood splatter
As it draws tattoos of attainment on you
Hear it gurgle
As you guzzle it out of my body, as if some wine
Nevertheless,
It won't evoke any poignant feeling
Even if you realize in the end
You and i are same kind.
So drown me deep, so deep in the pool which is red
Sorry again,if you were expecting blue,yellow,green or may be white
Descend me twice the force
If i brawl or condemn against your peace of mind
Hear the music of my diminishing gasps till the end
And move on , tattooed and vindicated.
-Pallavi Goswami
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
If you were a glass of scotch,sans soda
sparkling like gem stones on rocky ice
or
A tiny shot of tequila,besieged
in a castle of glass,pleading
not guilty through out,
I could quaff you down
my parched throat, like
an elixir,stung
by short lived fearless wisdom.
But you are not.
You are a castle
amidst the infinite sea,
not made of glass,
concocted in layers,
masking the answers,to questions
i could never ask,
buoyant by wisdom hidden in your pillars,
resplendent by your tall embossed walls, with figures,
an index of its sagacity,
chandeliers hanging like words of all kinds,
enlightening the castle at its pilgrims appeal,with
right words,
wrong words,
sensitive words
and
insensitive ones,
So many words.
And I too wish to feel your embossed skin
through my fingertips,
with each flip,
gaining access to the your light.
I wish to stay afloat with you,
on your paras undulating
like sea waves of a quiet night,waiting
for an eternal dawn of wisdom.
-Pallavi Goswami
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
You could be my glass of scotch,sans soda
sparkling like gem stones on rocky ice
or
A tiny shot of tequila,besieged
in a castle of glass,pleading
not guilty through out
and
I could quaff you down
my parched throat, like
an elixir,
stung by fearless wisdom ,but
just for tonight.
So, let me drink
you through words,
one at a time
right words,
wrong words,
sensitive words
and
insensitive ones,
So many words.
So, let me taste
you through my fingertips,
taking down to you mine
through each flip, like
a token of appreciation, against
generosity bestowed,
none plundered.
So, let me drown
into paras, undulating
like sea waves, on seeing full moon.
Let me sink,and
get high on them, but
Forever!.
-Pallavi Goswami
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Fear is only a swarm of butterflies
resting inside your lungs secretly,
fluttering, every time you breathe,
impeding the smooth passage of air
provoking fake illusions of fright.
Sooner than you,
your body becomes their much sought adventure
and when they take a flight down to your stomach,
set idioms come to life - " i feel butterfly in my stomach"
making you feeling anxious or anticipate nervously "what's next?"
Little did you know,
you could pull them back to your lungs
and push them out with your determined breathing
only to see a rainbow erupting from lips,
not falling back in semicircles , but
rising sharp till the horizon,
breaking myths of conventional fears
and germinating new ideas of observing life.
Just- take the charge.
-Pallavi Goswami
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
Let go the want to watch for
The gates to open,Like
Beyond lies fate, or
Attempts to hear a knock in between
The pauses of time,they call
It a blank space.
Let him fly to you
With the wind,riding
On its hem
swiftly and softly.
Let him land uninviting
With the sweet waters,on
Your parched lips.
Let him run an errand,and hold
You off-guard,
Let his fingers leeway
On your freckled cheeks, as if
Motifs embroidered to augment your beauty
Let him dig them across your little graceful curves
And hold with the fingertips,evoking
The resting neurons and laid back impulses
Let him move his lips,lightly
On the back of your neck
And heal its lovelorn shriveled surface,because
yours is butter-skin
Forgive, if the blood trickles,off
passion and smear
your colorless life.
-Pallavi Goswami
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC
"For the brain the observer is the observed."
~ Krishnamurti
"You've got to start with consciousness."
"Without ego there is no creativity."
" Through Memory and Perception...consciousness becomes embodied."
"It's a mystery how consciousness becomes embodied."
"The universe has a Purpose: to manifest the highest Ideals !"
~ Dr. Amit Goswami
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
There's a Jungle where i am found
amidst the verdant flora
besides whimsical fauna
i have my house
The mornings greeted with crimson trunks
The evenings dance with the breezy leaves
The nights are musical , for a stream sings here
My dreams uncanny because i lack a sieve
For my movies,i see birds flutter
For my songs,i hear them sing
For my company,i keep a dagger
For the rest,there is a fire in me
The beige forest path,takes my footing so well
anytime i'm off-track,holds me and tell
The giant soaring timber,drives me so high
so i have one more house,my very secret sky
And once growling belly calms
Comes night wrapped in stars
Settles beside me,yet takes me quiet far
Inducing my uncanny dreams,tells me stories till dawn
There's a Jungle where i am found
There's a quiet in here , but for me it's my favorite sound!
- Pallavi Goswami
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
And now
when you are beaming
like silver lightening
on a dark cloudy night,
so proud and unstoppable.
i want to be just to you
for you are
the symbol of the wisdom i learnt
the proof of the skills i honed
the process of shedding blood and sweat
to be what i have become
Let me not keep you behind the pretentious colored hidings
I have decided,
You are free to stand out
like i do
~ to my would be grey hair , Pallavi Goswami
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
Scribbling on papers
And
Scraping the papers
Incessantly
No love letters written
Neither stories,nor poems
Insanity status checked and found ok!
-Pallavi Goswami
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
Finger tangled, pretentiously helpless
looking forward to stick together.
Like a magic wand, however the move
sparks ignited tip to tip.
The blood rushes in veins feverishly,
hair on skin stand on their ends.
Faces paralleled,so are their bodies
The hearts producing orchestral cacophony,
followed by stomach full of butterflies.
She breaks the silence with her staccato voice,
Only to be kissed for the first time ever.
-Pallavi Goswami
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC