Treasure Island

Pradip Chattopadhyay

(28.01.1961 / Kolkata)

Comments about Pradip Chattopadhyay

Enter the verification code :

  • Muhammad Khalid (7/12/2014 8:32:00 PM)

    true visualisation of thoughts inside yourheart. please sir ibeg your presence to read my poems...

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Amir Mohammad Islami Chalandar (6/6/2014 7:11:00 AM)

    excellent poems. you are great in explaining your feels. i invite you to read my poem

  • Richard Beevor (5/10/2014 6:56:00 AM)

    11/12/13 always the best way

  • Richard Beevor (5/10/2014 6:54:00 AM)

    3.45 beautiful to capture just that moment in time, great work Pradip and thank you for your comments on my work, much respect to you

  • Richard Beevor (5/8/2014 4:23:00 AM)

    lovely poem Pradip, both rhythmical and sublime, more great work please

  • Richard Beevor (5/6/2014 12:57:00 PM)

    white dots, lovely poem, thank you Pradip

  • Valsa George (4/28/2014 11:12:00 PM)

    Pradip...

    A prolific writer... a poet of outstanding range! Any topic is safe in his hands... It is always a pleasure to skim through the vast plethora of his poems dealing with the trivial to the lofty...!

  • Dilantha Gunawardana (4/5/2014 12:06:00 PM)

    I just wrote on David's wall and I couldn't in good mind log out of PH. Your words are beautiful and your array of work, specially your fables and stories are exceptional. You've spurred me on a great deal - now I write imperfect haiku poems after reading your two line poems and I've trying to write more rhyming poems, although my vocabulary is limited............... Keep on writing and sharing your work and you will continue to ripple your current on PH. Good Luck Pradip.

  • David Mclansky (4/3/2014 5:56:00 AM)

    you know how to write a poem. As I said to Woody Allen, 'Bravo. in Central Park.

  • Lyn Paul (1/13/2014 6:56:00 AM)

    Dear Pradip... Your words are always deep within your heart and I thank you always for the kindness that you bring to PH. Keep smiling

Ritual

Every morning he goes to the church
though not religious, not really much
tidily dressed, looking so neat
the routine is a way, for him a habit
he prays for nothing, nothing he wants
it's all ritual, the prayers he chants
Years roll by, he grows frail and old
till he is laid in a coffin, dark and cold
the hearse carries him to the church he went

[Hata Bildir]