Inside his head

Inside his head
there's an ongoing
battle of contrasts,
a conflict between

ideals and interests!

His rage merciless,
squashes opposing ideas,
blocks 'n tackles the undesired.
It ferments a self-justification,
fails to stop the complaining
inside his head.

Inside his head --
a war remains unsettled.
simmering dissatisfaction,
dissatisfaction of
desires unmet,
broken dreams
love unrequited
betrayed loyalty.

Few will know the truth
the story mainly untold --
Tormented inside
yet a facade of smile
plastered outside
projects a persona
of sea-bottom calm.
So he smiles.
And he smiles
and then, he smiles some more.
Smile is God's last mask!

অপ্রত্যাশিত প্রেমের গজল

কেউ বোঝেনি তোমার অঙ্কদেশের

আঁধার-চাপা ফুলের সুবাস

কেউ টের পায়নি তুমি দাঁতে 

পিষেছ প্রেমের গুঞ্জন-পাখি।

তোমার ললাট-চাঁদনীচকে

ঘুমিয়েছিল সহস্র পারস্য টাট্টু, 

যখন সেথা চার রাতভর জড়িয়ে

থেকেছি তোমার হিমরোধী কটি।

পলস্তারা ও জুঁইদের মাঝে 

তোমার দৃষ্টি ছিল এক

অঙ্কুরিত ফ্যাকাশে শাখা। 

চেষ্টা করেছি তোমায় দিতে নিজ পাঁজরে

আইভরি-অক্ষরমালা ‘চিরকাল'। 

সর্বদা, সর্বদাই, মোর বেদনোদ্যান, 

তোমার দেহ আমা হতে উড়ে যায় চিরতরে।

এখন তোমার ধমণীর রক্ত আমার মুখে, 

ইতিমধ্যে আলোমুক্ত মোর মরণকল্পে।

This is a translation of Lorca's Gacela of Unexpected Love. I used AS Kline's English translation from original Spanish.

Floydian Slip

This is a tribute to psychedelic music. And a confession of a bong. 

At dawn's gate puffs the piper 

a saucerful of secrets -- ummagumma and more. 

An atom heart mothers 

 its meddled relics. 

At cloud-obscured Z-point, 

a grass pad propels me 

 to moon's dark side - 

Wish you were here! 

The walls within and between 

alienate all animals, 

comfy or numb, awaiting final cut 

of deception and betrayal. 

These gigs on grass ink

lapses of reasoning momentary. 

Thunderstruck, division bells 

sound delicate. 

Through the passage of time 

on an endless river, 

the trips rock through 

 art, space and prog. 

Marooned yet free, 

sound and silence echo 

my pulse in experiments 

truly Floyd a rhapsody in pink!

How long

how long must I wait

at dawn's gate

how long will it take

for all to get your fake

how long must I dance

to the same song

how long must i march

to someone's tune

how long

how long

how long

Rangiye Diye Jao (Brighten me please)

Translation of Tagore's Rangiye Diye Jao 

Brighten me please before you leave this time -- 

    in your own hue, 

    in your secret shade, 

    in juvenile glee's perky tint, 

    in teardrop's touching tone. 

Brighten me please before you leave this time. 

Let the hue touch my spirit, be of use in each action 

Let the hue touch my spirit, let it kindle twilights' tip, 

    let it help me go through the night's dark

Brighten me please before you leave this time. 

Wake me up before you leave, 

    stir up my blood with your steps' swings. 

Wake me up before you leave. 

The way stars bloom in the dark night's bosom, 

    brooks spring inside chambers of rock-caves,

    cloud's voicefulness erupts inside its chest, 

    rhythm begins at the core of universal dance, 

Sway me likewise, walk me to the exit way, 

   shoo the bondage of lament. 

Brighten me please before you leave this time.

A Woman

She sits by the sea. 

Nude. Not naked!

Her sun-kissed body --
    curvy and carved, ivory and ebony, 
    firm and fair, brown and beige,
    all in one, all at once --
the sea-mists now cool.

Through her tassels of golden unrest
    the sea-breeze runs its care-soaked comb,
        unfurling yore's lore.
Over her skin of milky-glow calm

    the silky rays drizzle like sands in an hourglass,

        weaving morrow's lure.

She's desire. Pure. A pyre to which
    men draw and burn.
She's gravity. Powerful. Toward which 

    men flock and orbit.

Though eyes to her form often rove and halt,

she sits absorbed oblivious of 

    her admirers and adorers,

    the lurkers and the lechers.

She sits still pensive and lost.
'cause it's her time:
    A time to herself. A time for herself.

    A time to reflect. A time for rapture.

    A time to connect. A time for concord.

Her mind, body, and soul 

    in unison with nature,

sensing, sipping and sniffing its

    hues, spirit, and essence,

expands her horizon with all its joy and beauty.

She sits by the sea.

As thick as a brick

A poet and painter
behind glasses thick
seeks out musings
he hopes will stick.

A few reads his poems
at best labored verses.
Even fewer gets a drift
by skimming the surface.

A few sees his artwork,
plots at best scatter.
Even fewer has a clue
if it's guache or water.

He paints no fairytale
nor pens any spite well,
inking what's paintable,
daubing what he can tell.

Yet our poet and painter
as thick as brick.
Gets not he lacks the gift,
that rare touch or trick.

He strives for a way
to make a canvas glow
He hopes there be a day
for his words to flow.

A dreamer not doer
behind glasses thick
keeps laboring his craft
to be truly unique.

A White Wedding

A white little church
edged by a black cliff
by a white seaside.
It's a nice setup for
a white wedding
of a black-veil bride.

Black crows fly high
into the limpid white
above the black earth.
It's a great day for
a white wedding
on a black sabbath.

White spruces,
and black cherries,
black willows
and white birches -
at the periphery
they stand guard.

Chequered lawns,
white fountains
and  black swans,
white lilies and
roses black.
Flower girls
running around
picking daisies
and flowers wild.

A white dog's barking
at the black swans
and a black one chases
few white rabbits
beyond the lawns.

Guests, all whitelisted,
shuffle in odd pairs
as a white witch
performs black magic.
A white-house resident
and a dealer in black-share.
Two men in black
and a snow-white
outta black Caddi,
Blondes in black velvet,
their stallions in white.

Guests mingle in a
large white hall
behind black curtains.
Black mirrors on walls
cast white shadows
that fade into black.

The groom's a white hat
but the bride not so quite!
Hiding white secrets
of a black knight
in white satin even on
a pre-nuptial night.

The best man gives
the black diamond
a white-glove care
The maid of honor --
out of a white-house-
black-market catalog
with a blackout stare.
(Far too many
white Russians
on a night out!)

Groomsmen in black
and bridesmaids white
takes a stance
at the altar line up for
a white wedding of
a black-veil bride.

A black widow
sprinkles white potion
as a whited sepulcher
reads what he'd scribed.
It's an apt sermon for
a white wedding of
a black-veil bride.

A white wedding
on a black sabbath
of a black-veil bride
is a helluva ride,
It's a dream
black and white
gone wild.

From Darkness to Light

When dreams turn into nightmares
and relations grow sour,
When no angel's left
to lit up your darkest hour
At dark when dreams return
to mock and incise,
But your closest fail to see
past your sullen eyes,
Where can one look for solace?
lookup to which skies?

When your silence deafens nobody
but your talent they shun
When your smile reaches everybody
yet you they so-shunt,
When hopes begin to fade and
despair looms for a while
But those around you can't feel
your pain masked by the smile
Where does one seek support?
Where's his Lily of the Nile?

When your dreams shatter
and don't let you cope.
It ain't easy to hang onto
one's dream, one's hope.
When you're drowning and
no one throws in a rope
It is too tempting to end
the fight, stop all hope.

But you're a Rajput, one braveheart
Why could not you handle a hurt?
Was it so bad? Was it too dark?

You were Dhoni, 
you played Byomkesh, right?
How can you give in now
without a fight?
Couldn't you hang onto that final rope
and pull thee from darkness to light?

Prano bhoriye

To life's brim, past desire's end

give me more and more of life.
In your universe, at your dwelling
grant me more and more space. 

More luminance, more radiance
into these eyes, o lord, you pour 
Fluting in melody after melody
give me more and more tune
More agony, more misery
O Lord, give me more sense.
Opening doorways, knocking down barriers
offer me relief, offer me refuge.
In agape, in even more agape
let my ego keep drowning.
By nectar's bank, of yourself
bestow more and more and more.

Me Too

With your fame, you lured me
With promises you trapped me.
Against a wall, you pinned me
Against my will, screwed me.

You know you are a monster
You left me with a huge scar
You may well be a superstar
But know you can't run too far.
.

Blockchain

A bill of materials
replaced
their bill of rights.

Hapless individuals,
stripped of identity,
a tribe of humans
shipped on
a deadly voyage,
from a dark continent
to a far-off land,
towards obscurity
and uncertainty.
.
Helpless beings
turned into
an inventory of
subjugated property.

Sold and resold,
a supply chain in
depraved indifference,
moved these assets from
one ledger to the next.

A chain of custody,
disgusting, restraining,
shackled a human-ware
to an auction block!

A blockchain of
human indignity.

You must stand tall

When dark and deluge shroud you

If thy options seem too far and few.

All around you trap and landmine

Pointing you toward ominous sign.

No easy way out and no one to call

You must, you must still, stand tall.

When dull and drab your only view

If disasters lurk and dangers brew.

The dark cloud loses its silver line

No light rays on thy passage shine.

Lost in the deep and no one to call

You must, you must still, stand tall.

When in harm's way without a clue

If help seems not to come through.

Stalled, nothing, nomore is fit and fine

New tempests signal rapid decline.

Alone and dazed and no one to call

You must, you must still, stand tall.

random

Before sending over
to you and the world,

my poem I shall 

read aloud to a(n):
   Purple Finch or African Gray,

   Neon Tetra or Molly Red,

   Golden Retriever or White Terrier

but never to a:

   Havana Brown or Russian Blue
(I hate selfish creatures!!!)

An Untitled Quatrain

She is possessed by the black night.
Her quiver craves for arrows
from the quiver of her white knight
To save her soul from sorrows.

For GnR fans

For all GnR fans

I keep knocking on heaven's door -
god, missed yesterday's night train,
couldn't soak in the November rain.
have sympathy for the devil & more.

He goes, "have patience, do not cry.
you ain't the first in bad obsession
sweet child o' mine, one in million
it's easy when you live and let die.

estranged, civil war, dust n bones fine
right next door to hell with such clues
reckless life better with shotgun blues
welcome to the jungle, you are mine."

When The Seven Stars Bloom

When the seven stars bloom in the sky, on this grass

I sit still; like a dead star starfruit-red clouds 

inside the bay waves have sunk  – descends a quiet, obedient

Bengal's twilight-blue evening – as if a long-haired lass appears in the sky:

On my face, on my eyes float her hairs;

no path on this earth has seen her –  never seen such

countless hairs' kisses fall on mango-pine, jackfruit, rose-apple ceaselessly,

never known such pleasant fragrance drip from a beauty's tresses.

On some earth's way: the fragrance of soft paddy – the essence of 
water-spinach, duck's plumes, arrow, pond water, 
glassy fish and olive barb's mild smell, 
lassie's rice-washing wet hand – that cold hand, lad-trampled nutgrass, 
the jaded silence of the red banyan fruit's saddened fragrance –  amidst these

when the seven stars bloom in the sky, Bengal's soul I feel. 

Pink is just not another color

  maybe a color of romance

I may be a color of romance

I may hint at approachability

But why think you have a chance

& up for grabs is my femininity?

I’m the sweet side of red,

the color of love and passion –

but I'm not your object abed

please note down my objection.

Do you think my playfulness

an invite ‘Hey baby, let’s ball?'

Even if I’m a color of weakness

what gives you any right at all?

If you find me too palsy-walsy,

if you think you can groove –

So my NO now you think sassy,

too rude if I stop your move.

I am hot, rose and fuchsia -

Work to play is no pink-collar

I’m Falak, Minal or Andrea

I may be tender but I’m valor.

Mother, teach your son well

so they know what is a no

Sister, tell your bro miserable

What’s a hint, when to let go?

Last night, I saw the movie Pink and I was deeply moved. Salute to the team that has conceived the story and has given it such a nice treatment. May we all be in the pink!

This morning, I realized that pink is not just another color.

September 25, 2016

Pablo and Pablo

 This poem is a tribute to two of my favorite Pablo's in the world - Pablo Picasso and Pablo Neruda.

Origamagnets!

Refrigerator magnets with origami bird; my experiments in reuse and recycling.