July 30, 2015 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION




Pijush Kanti Deb





It is not necessary

on the part of a hunter

and his casting of arrows

to keep company with the guidelines,

sometimes misleading

and confusing to a  hunter

to reach his goal

and its shadow-

equally useful in blooming a blossom

on the lips of a hunter

who holds good his running

towards his aim

starting his limited stroke engine

fueled by his unlimited wants

attaining the contradictory probabilities

of success

or failure

making the earthly eyes blissful

in keeping an eye on the hunter

having two strings in his bow

and hopeful for a definite success

in hunting

piercing either the heart

of the goal

or its shadow.










We are pre-programmed

to cry

for the moon

unfortunate too to pull a long face,

yet time smiles

at those

who are always available

to satisfy the displaced face

with a return-ticket

as mother pleases childhood

showing a glittering moon

hidden inside the mirror,

father manipulates the adulthood

showing it instead some rectangular moon rise

set everyday in the sky

of his own traditional firm

assuring the stomach

to be luminous always,

the neighbors substituting

the beloved moon in the sky

with the moon which revolves

around me and my limitation;

the saints control the trembling old age

inviting it to the earthly homes

of the God

wherein maybe,

it can get to the stairs

to climb up

to the ever-wanted moon.









“Make chicken or be chicken”

the alluring title of the drama

wherein we-

the peculiar are ambidextrous

to perform the double role

as both active actors

and passive audiences

with no exception

the shortest finds nothing

in the dust

but a chicken

in his heart to roast

and have,

the shorter makes the shortest

a chicken

and eats it,

the short spoils no time

to make the shorter a chicken

to swallow it up

and the way too for tall,

taller and tallest

to come in and join

the self cooking feast

except the tallest

who comes out unchanged

appreciating the taste

of the taller-chicken

forgetting the sun-

the super superlative

and his watching of the proceedings

who is definite to say,

”Now it’s my turn”.








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.


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