Poetry

By

Pijush Kanti Deb

Yet These are Sad

The congregation of great probabilities

feel good in their blissful movement

around some heart-soothing goodness

yet these are sad

in finding their habitats

only in the darkness of empty pockets,

maybe, on the capricious wish of

an unknown diplomatic heart

resulting in

the arrival of all sorts of scarcities

to arrest

their benevolent hands and feet,

an unabated feeling of guilt

for doing nothing good

in accordance with their mouthful names

hopefully kept as kindness,

generosity, benevolence and others

enriching only the verbal dictionary

and a frequent and long sigh of repentance

looking at their vast but useless hearts

and barren hands with nail-less fingers.

The Sun Rises Again

At any time and place

a tumultuous gang of hilarious bellicose

makes the peace-loving flesh

creep and hide behind one another

but need not to be worried as today

the scaring is tired and enjoying a nap

leaving its thundering and segregating weapons aside

making the day a red letter day

for the peace-loving ascetic lives

to spend it in dancing and singing

covering the dry stains of blood-shedding

with their dust of their mirthful shoes

and giving the innocents

a peaceful night to dream

of a heart-soothing paradise

to be built in the next morning

Alas!

The sun rises again

but gives birth to a godless morning

showing diplomatically a big dining table

with beautiful dishes thereon

collocated some with fish and some with meat

and hiding a time bomb too

somewhere in the heart

of the provisional paradise.

The Tragic Change Of Time

On the way to my office

accompanied by a raining cloud

side by side and hand in hand

enjoying

each and every drop of its celestial touch,

my eyes are unfortunate

to catch the final match

of Prof. Pikantid –

my beloved history professor

during my hot and sweet college life

who used to show his suitable attitude

in his teaching performance saying,

“I’m not a statue standing in a desert like other’’

and we the students were lucky

to enjoy a double show in a single ticket

both of his fluent explanation

and his dramatic gesticulation

simultaneously bringing ambidextrously

all the dead kings on his platform alive

to relate their own stories by turns

and the consequent double marks too

in his subject in any test held in any time.

Alas!

How tragic the change of time is!

The self-confident professor is witnessed now

as the most helpless

playing a hidden match alone

to hit the winning goal

against his ensuing death

lying on a stretcher numbed like a statue

and mum like a desert.

Pijush Kanti Deb

Pijush Kanti Deb is a new Indian poet with around 252 published or accepted poems and haiku in around 81 editions of national and international magazines and journals, print and online, such as ;Down in the Dirt’, ‘Tajmahal Review’, ‘Pennine Ink’, ‘Hollow Publishing’, ‘Creativica Magazine’, ‘Muse India’, ‘Teeth Dream Magazine’, ‘Hermes Poetry Journal’, ‘Madusa’s Kitchen’ ,’Grey Borders’, ‘Dead Snakes’, ‘Dagda Publishing’, ‘Blognostic’ and many more.

His best achievement so far is the publication of his first poetry collection,’Beneath The Shadow Of A White Pigeon’ published by Hollow Publishing and available on AMAZON.