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ritwika raha Poems
In hollow hours, In pristine white, Mourning, she sat, In her lonely fight,
As clean, as beautiful The mirror, I saw The crafted grandeur Beauty gorged of flaw.
The torn Skin
The skin was pale The eyes in rest The resting breath Amidst million breaths
The wound was raw, The gore was red The wind was cold, From the north it fled
Tears Without A Reason
The narrow strings of the shallow tears, Runnel down without a fear, Gliding and rolling, Tainted with repentance
No chirping bird, No blooming rose, Blew the captive wind And smoke arose
In an unknown Clime, In untrodden miles I walk the lengths with a broken smile I try to watch
I had a vision, Long back torn Which I still gaze at And wish to be worn.
The Water Princess
The retiring sky in its golden attire Merged with the vast sapphire, The faded lines of the blurred horizon Burnt in a distant saffron pyre
The ‘valor' was rich as the bygone years, That slept with him in his silent graves The sulking verses below the reposing Earth Unvoiced death in soundless rave
The flames were blunt, The rage was dry The winter hot And the summer was sly....
The Perfume! ! !
The nude perfume that I wore Was just my own The Florets and the leaves All did mourn
Farewell! ! !
The time has come for the ties to break, Our eyes shall weep and our hearts shall ache, The time has come for the friends to depart, To move into the world, for lessons to impart,
The Languid Wish
The languid wish, In her stolen heart, All cleaved desires, In that sunken Cask
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
In hollow hours,
In pristine white,
Mourning, she sat,
In her lonely fight,
She counted her hours….
Her days and years
In agony, in misery…
And In silent fear
The muted tears
Rolled down the faded cheeks
Neither mirth, nor time
Made it bleak…
The longing for love
The craving for crowd
Dead Life alive
But ears were deaf
And the eyes were blind
All freedom caged
And the life declined
A mirror, a brook….
A canvas blank
A hollow soul,
Hollowed more as the hours sank
She sat and ...