Paroled Tidings Poem by Avik Datta Gupta

Our deepest feelings could find a few words
Words..we have prodigally used too often…
To ornate trifle feelings..the odd exclamation, now and then…
And now.. we strive to find the valued tidings
To replace depreciated syllables of thought

A crooked path on trodden grass…
Has its own little tale to tell
As flowers bloom in the mid-summers gloom
In the blinding light of the day…
Shadowed by the darkness of expression

Euphemistic elegance, elevates eloquent esteem
Abrasive alarms… affirms austere absence
Sinister similes… signals sarcastic silence
For fanatic folks fighting filthy fragility
Deemed.. doing dramatic dexterity.. devouring dreams.

Yet words remain the same while our thoughts are on the run
As feelings swell and shrink in our pounding hearts
Wishing to drink the sunset, in the still of the night..
Lukewarm lullabies of the gelid zephyr...hums an unknown tune...
The tune of an untrained flautist...playing on carelessly...

We listen..mesmerized and intoxicated..
To the rancorous rondezvouz within ourselves..or others
Catastrophic calls create curious cacophony..
Juxtaposing jesters with idealistic intellectuals..
Inundating …interest…indifference…in infinity