Here I am. Standing at the bus stand. For you.
For your sorrows and melancholic straight lines.
Here I am. Standing For you. Facing life.
Few humble thoughts. Speeches. Friendship deflected.
See. This evening stroll. One hard days twilight.
This remembrance yields faith- synchronized nostalgia.
In this perimeter I have none, none else
But lighting candles like fairy tales
A gush of wind, a pack of wolves
Please start your games. Unruffled.
Children cried that monsoon night
Ooze up candles and dispel nightmares
That delicate face- amidst last twilight zone
Help me- incarnate
And a little warmth for a better life
Spread it. Reach out. Increase. Widen. Mankind
Utilize, apply, pertain
Like the last bit of a soap
Read me; learn me; comprehend- like a book.
At bath, before you sleep, call me; render words
Wheres your sinful moonlights- moonlight reveals
Drench me, flood me, overflow
Exploit, use me,
As much as you can
As much as it’s possible
As much as it’s feasible
Tales of the road
Those were all tales of the road
Or all roads, lanes and by-lanes
All my correspondences are but a pedestal dialogue
Known- unknown- little known
In this metropolis of drowsy maladies
What else could have been either?
Somnolent candles facing mirrors-
Friendship knots with fire ants
What else could I had written,
But yarn of
Long-short, bent-straight, lifeless roads
Whatever I told you last night
For those frigid metaphases write nothing but
This morning, today’s daily
You see? Revels no friend-
No cacophony chat, nor spectrum splash-
And yet it’s true- I wanted this.
Never leave me as per promise
Day by day, more like a popular soft drink
You are becoming democratic
And more like an evening sermon- rhythmic, daily
We happen meet on regular intervals
And among these distressed worthlessness
I keep gazing your nocturnal drained footsteps towards the Minster
A stout furry obscurity spreads its wings in pleasure
And I try to remember you without any formal recognition
Had we met before?
If yes- then when, how?
Inbuilt waves cast questions such
You left my commune decades ago
I wake up in the scent of funeral flowers
Nearly dizzy, fogged sight
Smoldering pale feline eyes amidst pitch-black daydreams
I try to rub it off
With my elocutions, my cohesive correspondence
With the warmth of a dark coffin blanket
It comes over the swamp of night for the feast of my cold blood, bones
The luster of a magic lamp tries to divulge it slowly
Crouching beneath those satanic footsteps
A realization claws the brain cells
There is no true defense mechanism against the word ‘fog’
But then, day breaks
Come; let’s hold our guitar
And have a sit over that burgundy hillock
Come; Let me sing, and for you there are strings
Tunes may falter, and may break
But will; that’s the queue
And a homogenous delight
Play it. For the wrist watch runs fast
And we will never know when its time to leave
Till then, lets resonate the trees, shrubs and the nature above
You had promised me immortality, and this
You have summoned me
From the ambiguity of doom’s day
Where’s my preamble, my preface
My first letter of judgment.
Triple bridges at work…
Links are- wheel…wheels…wheels…
Any day you take to the road
spy cams dangling above…
Halt! Wander not…
Police and priest had a similar initial- “P”
More of a tedious habit
they combed each other’s locks.
The king and queen and The Queen and King were in duel
for the lion’s share of the land.
Red tapes maintained clocks
or the clock did maintain them.
The ministers were Medusa.
The credit note knew returns…
and the public knew nothing of it.
This… but a chronicle of the feudal times
The night watch
A parade along the edge of a rampart and
history speaks dumb folded, spellbound
Install a unit for night watch-
three healthy watchdogs on duty;
and the other indifferent
One scientific paradox
Flowers bloom at midday by geometric layouts-
or layouts follow a geometric path?
As if splendor…
Mathematics is defied by the poetry?
Sabyasachi Roy is primarily a vernacular poet in Bengali. He's just started writing in English lately. Selected for publication in Quintessence, Dicey Brown, Mindfire Renewed, The Potomac, Poetry Salzburg Review, 13th Warrior, Malleable jangle, Underground Window, TMP Irregular, Real 8, Firstwriter, Indianest, Citizen Culture and in Virtual Writer.
Contact Sabyasachi by e-mail:firstname.lastname@example.org
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