Bazi alis Subrata Ray
The Tempest From The Unconscious.
The links to the senses were boomeranged,
The planted traps on pleasure house licked dismay,
The traditional gay haggard in the weary mirage,
The Nature’s cycle stood –still in autumnal –winter.
All yesterdays’ hope-ridden dreams breathe smokes,
Of kind as foul odor from the heaps of dead-bodies,
Half eaten and stored booties, wasted in a harem,
Rise and whisper, whisper and rise as phantom-locus.
The earth and the stars receded, departed the memories,
The Time -left –un-rotten corpse wished the confession!
Bazi alis Subrata Ray's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Tempest From The Unconscious. by Bazi alis Subrata Ray )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Owl-Moon Night & The Rickshaw-puller, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Sagacious Senryus, Diane Hine
- A miner 49er (golden dreams), Monk E. Biz
- SATELLITE MOUTHS, alexander opicho
- Praying A Relief, Amitava Sur
- Infant Morning, Kyle Schlicher
- Broken Homes?, Ellirie Aviles
- What Saves Us, Bruce Weigl
- My Love For You, Saturday Chikezie Promise
- Dream (Secret Message Poem), Ronald Chapman