By
Pijush Kanti Deb
Followers of Advice
It sets the teeth on edge and blazes fire in the eyes, yet the old advice is shameless in persuading the innocent followers to take time by the forelock and make headway in life, though ignorant to the negative role played by a haughty bull, almost lunatic in running towards and trampling the enchanted followers and driving them from their destination
The upcoming timid followers realize
the risk of taking a leap in the dark,
feel the standing of their hair on end
at the frightening body language of the bull
and prompt to take their own heels, saying
’’Grapes are sour’’.
Here, an egalitarian can beat his brains
for a quick and sustainable solution
mingling the advice with power
inspiring and providing
the followers with amulets
to be bold enough
to take the bull by the horns
making it compelled to go back
straight to its dirty stable,
bestowing the followers
with sweet grapes
and fueling them to the brim
to make headway in their lives.
Broken Pitchers
Bearing the brunt of betrayal of someone we love and care for fills the pools of eyes with tears as the whole world sinks to the depth of black brine, yet it makes them quite transparent to tearful eyes to witness their bearing grudges against our true love and affection
Before we are convinced
they beat a selfish retreat from us,
leaving us alone
In the maze of confusion
to put two and two together on the query ‘’Why do they bear us hard?’’
Maybe, unabated beating of our brains
will bear one day fruit for us,
colorful fresher will be available
to refresh us,
new hands will keep company
with our old hearts to remold them
Alas! All will be in vain,
as broken pitchers can never be adjoined again.
A winning lot Life happened to me. With a gift of knowing the good with the bad. I can capture fleeting thoughts And stop time with a word. The everyday delights Bringing great mysteries. Constant wonder is my lot. I marvel how green are the leaves And how many sounds Are concealed in the throats of birds. Exceptional chance To examine the shapes and colors of clouds, To feel the menace of lightning. It is a pity to waste any minute On senseless sorrows. I have a one-way ticket