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shuvo chakraborty Poems
Me, a melting pot, under scorching realities Reducing in awesome pace Without any natures grace, Carrying a crying soul to be pitied.
She has arisen like a full moon
She has arisen like a fool moon In his heaven, That puts him in ecstasy Approved by the blinking stars strewn in array.
In rain washed night
In rain washed night, When every thing is out of sight Because of hazy rainy splash seething the earth with drenched lash.
Let me lost forever before I meeting you As I am firm on my belief that you may wither Much before I see you. For several years my vain expectation
The quarter moon has arrived on seaside, The carved bay being limited by sandline Is quite pleased with saline touch And is watched carelessly by drowsy moon.
OBITUARY TO INNOCENTS (KILLED SCHOOL CHI...
Stalking death, pale faced Invaded the gods nest Turning it the valley of deads In loving company of blind sense.
White pebbles on lonely road Looking snow with sunny glow, Roots of tree, earth beneath Gather strength to withstand blow.
Sages and poets can never interact well With noisy human forms, It is their precious self Placed on saddle of high heaven,
He walks in fire
He walks in fire, Fire breathing all hidden passions In intense fashion, Moves him like a particle riding on mad waves.
1 Grieving soul quivering, Praising hopes blundering, Expectation belieing, True sense slumbering.
O death, thou art another name of living, Visitor on sad hour, an uncourted tempest, Leaving the mortals hearts shivering. Ye eternal conspirator, elf of gloom.
When will winter bloom
When will winter bloom Removing summer gloom, Sounds my asking mind Whence melting on suns fierce grinds.
O winter comes in lots, The gory summer has damaged enough Of soft thoughts; fledging fancied dreams count their splinters on shabby sod.
Tell me not to rise again, Yonder slumbering magic hands of futility Have lulled me to rest in suave peaces grave And are inviting drowsiness enough to blink.
Comments about shuvo chakraborty
(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)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Me, a melting pot, under scorching realities
Reducing in awesome pace
Without any natures grace,
Carrying a crying soul to be pitied.
No splendor greets my sadden dreams
No valence encompasses my tiny worth,
Everything is bare to tricky folds
Of eternal contriver, hunter of bliss age old.
Wherever mine frail steps advance
In vain quest of solitude and eternal peace
Taking the soft hands of muse in body
I found the palace old subsided,
Revealing without princess gold
In scattered hopes of human mold.
O! the life disappointing omong dotting ...