Tag: #Englishpoetry

Crow

Warmth of spring season

Memory of my past life….

I hear them beckon.

PS : In Hindu religion, a crow is considered to be a carrier of the soul of a dead relative. When the dead relatives wish to visit the earth, they come in the form of crows. A reason why crows are sought during a funeral rituals and provided offerings; by that it is hoped that the dead soul also gets the offering. This haiku is a derivation from this ritual.

Copyright @ Goutam Dutta

Thursday photo prompt: Appointed #writephoto

Unending

 Through the centuries
 Human endeavour to
 Expose! Expose!!
 Scale up the peaks.
 Tear down forests.
 Dive into depths.
 Shoot into space
 And seek.
 Seek all that is unknown,
 Unheard,
 Mysterious,
 Let nothing remain a secret
 From the hungry, inquisitive mind.

 So the race continues.
 Everyone seems to be running
 In their own direction
 Busy
 The knowledge gained however
 Seems to be of no avail.
 The smaller mysteries-
 The anguish of a fellow person’s heart
 The cause of someone’s tear
 A silent scream 
 Emanating from a grieved heart
 Its causes not yet deciphered.
 Neither does the world seem to care
 On breaking down individual walls.
 No time to stop and ponder
 About nature-the silent sufferer.
 On individual tracks,
 Cocooned in a world of one’s own creation,
 Humans keep going,
 Know not where!

Copyright @ Goutam Dutta

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #96

An Illusory Journey

 This world is a maya,
 An illusion,
 A creation, magical,
 To lure and entice
 With pleasures, 
 suited for the mankind.
 Stimuli that caresses in various ways
 Provocations entice and endeavour to deviate.
 Mind weaves dreams of comfort and ease.
 Safety of a haven 
 We forever strive to achieve.
  
 With our limited foresight,
 Not knowing what lies ahead
 We move along blindly;
 Balancing ourselves,
 Lured by the promises
 The illusions, magnificent.
  
 Then one day we reach the end
 Unanticipated distress
 When the obstacle is insurmountable
 The pleasures of life
 Have gnawed and chiseled away
 The resolve to brave the odds.
  
 Walking on a narrow strip, 
 one realises
 There is no going back.
What do you see # 55 – 9 November ’20

Bubbly Tale

 A bubble am I.
 Born from confluence 
 Of water and air;
 Instantaneous in birth.
 Wearing a sheen of light
 I let go of my roots
 And float about.
 Perhaps of no use to anyone,
 Except that little girl
 Whose face lights up in smile,
 On seeing me dance
 In the barmy breeze.
  
 A bubble am I.
 Carried by my brethren,
 Savouring my moments;
 Of my brief existence.
 Nothing to lose nor gain
 From the vagabond existence.
 When its time,
 I leave not a trace,
 Before merging with my brethren.

Copyright @ Goutam Dutta

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/11/05/tale-weaver-300-bubbles-november-5th/