Dark is the day (An anthology of English poems)

brotee mukhopadhyay By brotee mukhopadhyay, 23rd Jul 2010 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/cvavyljf/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

It is an anthology of English poems, written between 2001 to 2009. There are sixteen poems altogether. Each poem has placed in separate pages. There are small and big pieces.

Each of the poems are in separate pages with their title at the top.


Dark is the day
(An anthology of poems)
brotee mukhopadhyay


1
dark is the day


dark is the day
dark sings a bird
my lonely lane bathed with the silent dark blood
expects I say
one word or two
when I find my lips suddenly dark
dark is the day
a dark knife has just kissed the bosom of my earth
dark are her eyes
with the darkest ever tears
yes, it is just that
it is just that
the blasting program of this evening is just over
=========================================




2
only you know


silence!
the dusk is very close.
silence!
a hide is near.
only you know I’m with you
and an envious star stretches
its pencil arms
towards the best treasure of the universe,
your lips,
I mean.
silence!
there’ll be a bang in my heart
resembling those chimes of the bell long back
sprouted from an Aryan temple.
silence!
no more I can bear –
only you know I’m with you
alone.
===========================================
3
from the desk of an office clerk


when pupils turn into slaves of digits
and fingers are pained by the plastic pen
my neurons long for a quiet slumber
as i go on copying again
vertical rays begin to slant
behind the huge railway base
you will witness fall of petals
if you try to scale my face
when pupils turn into slaves of digits
and fingers are pained by the plastic pen
with a hammer on the head and nails on the spine
yours faithfully i do remain
============================================







4
we have learned to be good


babies in thousands march to the graves
we’ve learned to be good
we’ve learned to be slaves
wound in the soul and wound in the mind
no roads to build and no way to find
we move to the north and move to the west
with shivering in spines and snow-struck nests
the sun forgets us and the moon forgets us
in pitch-dark nights and days nebulous
we love coca cola and the Blair and the Bush
let Fallujah bleed nest to Hindukush
babies in thousands march to the graves
we’ve learned to be good
we’ve learned to be slaves
that we don’t want to know that we are slaves
assures the Blair-Bush plate full of grapes
=====================================




5
blame not him


blame not him
if he is pained
if he is pained
and in pain if he inclines to raise a voice
notes of which may have rejoice little
if it is of tears
if it is a seclusion melancholic
even else a lunatic statement
or again at last after all is lost
one with a suicide bomb
blame not him
if he is pained
if he is pained
and in pain
if he inclines to raise a voice
that not enough to have a shape
which we call beauty, truth and such few …
=======================================


6
decidedly to the caves I was then


decidedly to the caves I was then
and opened its lips the sky :
what will happen with me ?
and the pine next :
with me, too ?
and my dear river hiding her quiet face beneath the sand
sobbed and sobbed and sobbed
all through the festival of carpet bombings over Gandhar and Babylon
the earth remained silent with shivering in the equator
all along
decidedly to the caves I was then
and I felt a sudden pull from the eyes of the earth :
leave me not
leave me not alone
not before my funeral
please
========================================



7
abode of love


oh for a pair of moons
silently smiling
smiling at my waves of love
or for a pair of reservoirs
for liquid pearls
or for elixir of heaven
and at its altar
in meditation me
centuries of war, of blood and of fire
notwithstanding
o for a pair of domes on the atlas of your body
or abode of love
brilliant ! ! !
==================================





8
save love


save love
whatever you may offer me to love
I do not love, dear friends,
nothing may be had from whatever is offered
save love
from globules to gold
whatever
fragrance of flowers or waves of music
my wind may not find
if it runs from pillar to pillar
my wind may not find
even if it runs
ask me to be ready to welcome a bullet
ask me to have a life in a dark cell
again i will say
save love
whatever you may offer me to love
I do not love
save love
=========================================
9
we leave and do not leave


we leave the land that does not allow us to till
we leave the river that has water not to drink
we leave the girl who often changes loving souls
still we do not leave those few who let our boats sink,
yes, once in every five year
======================================














10

now in the wood


strangled and left
in the wood
the aged vultures surrounding
I have not done what I should have
and I see a snake dancing
on my bosom
strangled and left
alone
when darkness encroaching
my soul
=====================================









11
a mirror in a spring


a leaf yellow, yellow still green, is in quest of a mirror in a spring
a low-hill lass folds her body to test how fresh may be her face
when our wood vermilioned or so quiet the forested stones
follow boy one that slips down to close the day at the darkness dense

what’s in your palm ?
a job in your palm ?
is all that rings at the lips of the lass
and suddenly she stares at the luminous wings
of the last bird in the twilight calm
as she stares and notes tears and tears
the silent boy hides in the spring
yes, he attempts to hide in the spring
a leaf yellow, yellow still green, is in a quest of a mirror in the spring
================================================





12
mayflowers


two ends of the mist folding with my hands
to the man in misery
told I :
I’ve come with the mayflowers
mayflowers for you
into my bosom embedded
and my bosom has been rocking
when a village at a glance withers away
as if to follow my tears
destined to be dried up for the right last round
my dream, (may be it is so), is not over teens
with limbs still feeble
and with bones still soft
and pungent in odor
but is well in the journey from green to yellow
a stream like a stream turns
and devours victory stands one or two
one old confer is uprooted
when on the day of a pensive finale
somewhere at the foothill of the ice clad mountains
one more first day of an age of stone raises its head
again my voice is low :
I’ve come with the mayflowers
mayflowers for you
into my bosom embedded
and my bosom has been rocking
my family of misery in front of me
keeps its quiet hand on the dilapidated gate
and exerts pressure on the lower lips with a couple of teeth from the upper jaws
noiseless
but I know and I’m sure :
only for my sake the grey soil
bursts its core
so that the sun greets the green
and I sprinkle water
and I sprinkle tears
and even my blood I sprinkle
============================================================





13
down with you !


a boy missed to call his mother
a moment just
and he died
and he died before he could call
and he could not even know
right earlier
his mother had been killed
this scene a hoard of camels saw
they were on a run
with unheard ever ears-smashers all around them
and they were turned into ashes
by the carpet of fire, fire of the hell
this scene a hoard of camels saw
then from the womb of the acres of cotton
beneath a sunless sky
from the eerie darkness of the railway tunnels
thro’ the mountains deformed
from the caves of the ship
stationed voiceless
after cartoons of tea were thrown to the jetties
beneath a sunless sky
thousands of head did rise
black and black and black
and they did rise with burnt centuries on their back
air now willed to have wings
and willed to move away to the sky
and water of the rivers willed to hide face
as if no speech it had ever
and a bird of tiny beak
with the entire snow of the earth on the wings
wept and wept and wept
and a conifer remained straight
and remained rigid
and remained spined
and a curse it hurled :
down with you !
down with you !
down ! down ! down !
==============================




14
he rests on the dust


he rests on the dust
fragrance of tears around
to nobody he is a weapon
a weapon he is still
that a weapon he is still many of us know
we know he does suffer while taking a side
and wars continue
and I’ve touched him with this hand
and I’ve learned that he is not dead
and nor even in a sleep
his lips are closed
and eyes overflowing water woe and wonder of beautiful life
he rests on the dust
fragrance of tears around
to nobody he is a weapon
======================================




15
how this darkness is


how this darkness is
darkness sprinkled with blood
my birds are in the hills
forested hills
my birds have no sleep
and look at me
my means to respond I’ve left on the way
terrorized
lest my grains may be burnt
and away is the door of the dawn
suddenly I find my love at the door
eyes fixed at the soil
poor eyes holding stream of the disdained time
how is this
my birds are in the hills
forested hills
my birds have no sleep
to compose a poem for the doom of the dark
==================================

16
he does not know why it does hurt him


he does not know why it does hurt him
he does not know why he feels it hurts
why he does hear the lashes of the whip
and he does feel the fetters tied to the legs
he does not know why he does feel
a fiery bullet has just smashed his bosom
again a stagnant day
oxygen rare
as if a man has smartly uprooted the enigmatic eyes of a deer
and in seconds followed
at the lonely eyes of his innocent babe directs amorous look
pearls blessed by the dews at the top of the green
nevertheless
presents a morn
which he desires to bag as the means for the day
when on the spine that does not learn to be folded
time rests its tender finger
and suddenly he finds
a recruit of the American force in one of his mother’s sons
he wants to be a fish in the river
and simply forgets that he has never been somewhere near it
he does not know why it does hurt him
he feels it hurts
======================================

Tags

English Poems, Literature, Poems, Poetry, Verses, Writing

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