Peace, My Beloved Poem by Paramananda Mahanta

Peace, my beloved

O night! call her again
The dream is already spent,
And she is missing,
O night! call her back again
Surely she is not a bygone passing.

O day! invite her early in the calm morning,
Before the truant sun misses such galore,
An embrace of silence with the forecasted dream,
When her sleep melts in the dew drops gleam.

O pleasant breeze! shake her dreamy head,
Is not she in a senseless gear unable to hear,
The pouring rain of bullets in which the life bullys,
Draw her close before the time turns it gear.

O smiling morning! don't pass so fast,
She requests your doldrum lease,
She must be giggling with her friends for now,
And the nosy night stiil to left her backward crease.

O my beautiful mistress! the shade of shades,
The twenty second century child of gun point,
How do you born in the fire of all hearts like doomsday grim?
Your waken lover is already in the shapeless grind.

Copy right2022
Paramananda Mahanta
All rights reserved