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Debanjan Dhar Poems
I shall not be pushing a letter through the window. Times are such I leave a wish wrapped in a shadow. If your breath wills you may find it whispering by your tresses Or hiding scared, yet longing to be found in your closet full of dresses.
A Beat a Stone
A beat is a stone to which a parachute is tied. A beat is a ripple, Welcome my mermaid bride. When the beat is done, you have tried your heart,
Songs from Silver Street
Sweetest words long dead in time, All stripped of warmth as a phantom’s mime, Do the glass door act on the stage called mind. It seems the theater hall is not a place to unwind.
I brought you a whine
Stay by me as I gamble away a life See, I am eagle and why don’t you be the sky? See, I am green and why, you could be life. See, I am a pill, be sleep if you could.
I dream of you in the dawning hope, I reached for you and slid down the slope, I saw I had my pockets full of withered leaves from June.
I Dont Have A Gun
Guns are a man’s best friend I suppose - Would just give you what you need instead of crying a hose. Talk to me woman when you are not a lady. I’ll see you one last time before my hands are no more shaky.
Drifter drifts back to where drifted from. On his way he has kept score of all pages you tore. With every page torn, the story shines bright in crystal missing links, In the reddish gloom of black nights and deceiving rain promise.
Oh, Rope Lady, can you see me through all the nascent contemplation? Your eyes are closed yet you see so much more in this service to obligation. I loved a deceit and followed it to the woods but returned pining for more
Catching a feel, letting it go, Finally slow to ride on. John Doe, He met a friend, bought him a drink
Futile bonding know their fate So all that matters is the end. Answers hidden but not sought for May surface but reasons would not.
I had my mind free enough to watch the color on the air. The emerald promise I have remembered seemed smiling in its despair. Filled to the brim with a magic breath I took my next few steps But the anxious spirit soon burnt out the spell yet I pined to pay off my debts.
The Sun Finds You
Maybe I’ll stumble on a way out of you Maybe you’ll agree there was a way to blue Maybe there’s a time to show you by your hands Where I have been
The Golden of the Dark Lake
Day school is over, All lessons are learnt and to be applied in unknown. All lights absorbed by the lake to be reflected tomorrow. As I entered, it was cooler but then it was gradually warming.
That was just a gimmick, a poor hand on mimic, Tasteless stereo-comic - How outrageously platonic. Makes a fellow laugh, be indifferent as a calf. May cut the head in halves and then lead the mind to starve
Comments about Debanjan Dhar
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I shall not be pushing a letter through the window.
Times are such I leave a wish wrapped in a shadow.
If your breath wills you may find it whispering by your tresses
Or hiding scared, yet longing to be found in your closet full of dresses.
It’s going to be a beautiful day until the end of time.
On such a day I put down a wish wrapped in rhyme.
I let it go so it finds you and softly pulls at your skirt.
I taught it to quietly tag along until you have a heart.
It may rain here tomorrow but it would still be your day.
The clouds they may not know of any other ...