PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

O the eye of the day
You are not a phoenix.
May you outlive
Myriad of Methuselah
...

So lovely is the view!
May come as match very few!
Now long put out into pink;
Look, how the sun will idly blink!
...

O lady, you've beaten
The misfortune and misery.
Born with such a pair of ears
That can hear the music without tune
...

Deeper behind the bust
the softer bosom
cradles a pre-natal infant.
Did Helen ever lightly
...

i see from far and near
my grandpa's sleek, rocking chair.
it still sits idle in his chamber,
the old dear thing is one fond member.
...

i stole the whole sun
to implant in your heart.
all holidays turn busy days;
your slender figure squeezes e
...

sad at the very pathetic plight!
just in morning comes twilight!
la martinere fellow, a pupil bright;
gifted qualities raised him to height
...

your death has given your eternal birth,
your last long days had heavy foot steps.
the paths you followed have made many ways;
bigger than the sun with myriad life-rays.
...

pagli, my love,
hark the loud, hark the proud call,
lady spring strums a tune; .
up, up goes; never down fall.
...

All the oceans
between us
have frozen
into too long
...

An awful fear has clutched
My growing-up will.
When your ‘NOs’
Echo inside hard
...

I said to her “Today is ‘the day’; tomorrow may not come”. “In days gone by they would look to have all that ‘yet – to be – had’ at any next day break”.
She still preferred any other day to that very day.
I said to her yet once more “Look, my sweet heart, today is longer than any day past and surer too than any day to come”.
Gosh! She grew more rigid and nodded a firmer ‘No’.
...

O nymph, my eyes see you across there.
Your lustful charm has sent a tremor
Deep into all my rusted parts.
My ancient torso signaled to my limbs
...

You may hail
my free verse
with the plaudits
of high-brow genteel
...

Out of the ‘Visage-cave’
buzz out a swarm of words
and take flight in a jiffy
with butterfly wings of a verse.
...

Excited feet, instructed feet
tread from the venue to the venue
travelling through a public street.
Patriotic songs and catchy slogans
...

We were aboard an express-train;
the iron-wheels were racing then.
Things were there as they are ever-
blaring cries from trotting hawkers
...

Abrasive pain bruised my heart.
It pricked and pecked at last.
My heart bleeds and bleeds black blood.
...

White or black
lies wear garb
but their foes stand bare;
don’t they feel like a barb?
...

Sorrow, o my love,
take me into your arms.
Dip me down into your
icy-cold lap.
...