A LESSON

Once a bird so free,

flew into an open cage.
It was dangling on a tree,
nearby a holy sage.

The bird stepped in,
looked thru' the iron ribs.
Saw the rays beamin',
spreading joy as one gives.

Out came the hermit's son,
rushing towards the cage.
Shut the lid and was gone,
playing a prank of his age.

The bird was filled with fear,
and tweets were thus shrill.
In agony, the boy came near,
and he lost all his thrill.

He knew it to be his own,
and caged it all day long.
He loved it dearly, unknown
the bird saw people throng.

With time it turned weak,
remembering the blue skies.
A playful love now meek,
sick and sore with silent cries.

"Set it free from bond",
said the hermit to his son.
The boy couldn't say beyond,
and eyes talked of forlon.

Through the open gate,
away flew the bird.
With no sign of soulmate,
his life became so hard.

Endless wait with time and age,
from dawn till dusk.
He waits beside the open cage,
with a question to ask.

"If it does not come back,
once again into your fold.
Love was false and lost track."
The sage to his son, thus told.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

SHE FLIES

Now she came sailing down,

with her wings spread out.
Through clouds that frown,
and icy flakes that sprout.

Gliding in the vast open,
out from wilderness free.
She sweeps now and then,
below clouds, above the tree.

Scent of the distant lands,
she carries the charm of it.
She placed herself on my hands,
with love in sight and no retreat.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

QUESTIONS

How can we ever hear,
the words of the lonely?
That arise from shy fear,
with beats of the heart only.

How can we ever see,
the music of deep silence?
That arise from depths, in me,
for which I waited, ages hence.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

ADVICE

A father said to his only son,

“Listen dear son, look at me,
One day, I will be dead and gone,
and a fine father you would be.
Not only a child’s dear father,
or a father for a dear son.
You will be his world rather,
before you leave to be gone.”

With a glint of pride in his eyes,

the son looked thru’ his heart.
Like phoenix be reborn and rise,
the father and the son did their part.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

THE NAKED KINGS

Days of wait, endless wait,

they hopefully keep up hope.
Centuries of endless sweat,
toil endlessly with no scope.

They who with zeal, worked on,
and got no return for it.
Will now move up and be gone,
the ‘naked kings’ will then retreat.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

THE GUITARIST

The guitarist plays his strings,

to fade loneliness and gloom.
Joy is what his melody brings,
and helps happiness to bloom.

Each eve he sings and plays,
to soften every lover’s heart.
He taps his feet and head sways,
and so he timely does his part.

The chairs, tables and lights,
with time always remain same.
Unhappy with occasional fights,
his marriage was no happy game.

New lovers, now with a new voice,
and his heart, no longer brave.
The helpless strings had no choice,
and he is now silent in his grave.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

PROTEST

Fire that turns ash from coal,
also does keep us warm.
Zeal that shows us the goal,
also does keep up the charm.

With ages, turned sand into stone,
and suppressed in lower layers.
The working men were left alone,
with despair and hopeless prayers.

As lava spurts, molten and hot,
with raging fury and force.
They will rise in protest and trot,
thus the rebels will take its course.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

WITH TIME

The flowers that wither away,
once bloomed in colours bright.
Now in breeze do not sway,
and does not feel alright.

Bees sat on it once,
sucking those nectar sweet.
Now no luck, now no chance,
now remains nothing to greet.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

MY VALENTINE

She told, she loves me so,
not with words that greet.
her eyes did the talking though,
those glances, an absolute treat!

Felt it like a ripple from far,
though distances apart maybe.
She heals the eluding scar,
such is my beloved for me!

Prasenjit©1997-2012

CONFUSIONS

Why is it an empty void,

our life do often seem?

Tussles we wanted to avoid,

and acts we hoped to redeem.

Why is it an endless wait,

we long to reach the end?

Most follow life like a bait,

and forget joy at each bend.

Our life, is a journey sweet,

and not a madding chase.

Be gleeful, like a bird's tweet,

and clear away the haze.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

LIFE'S ESSENCE

They who have no self belief,

with winds of change, will rust.
They who does bring no relief,
will never have a soul's trust.

They who build walls so high,
and be prisoners of their will.
They who not hear a lover's sigh,
will never know how they feel.

They who never searched a soul,
and strayed in the dark abyss.
They who never knew their goal,
will never know, what life is!


Prasenjit©1997-2012

DAYS OF LOVE

Like a splinter in a bonfire,

filled with love and not ire.
I stay warm in your bosom,
with each throb our love blossom.

Your absence from me haunts,
your smile to me taunts.
Like the fragrance of spring,
a freshness it does bring.

Like a water drop on dry land,
being together - hand in hand.
I counts days, you count hours,
like fading fragrance of flowers.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

CIRCLE OF LIFE

Follies that in youth we make,

come to visit, when we are old.
Acts lively, for youthfulness sake,
now become the follies of the old.

So, now the wheels have turned,
and it will turn again for sure.
Those in youth for love burned,
will thus in old times endure...


Prasenjit©1997-2012

THE TRUTH

We hear the gospels preach,

and in time the carols play.
Words to souls should reach,
and clear us of the vile that lay.

An act is not always a crime,
and a crime is always not a sin.
For some it is like a grime,
who passed thru' thick and thin.

'Truth', I say - the versions differ,
but still, all are truth - I know.
'Its a lie' - as one may refer,
strangely, it maybe a truth though!


Prasenjit©1997-2012

TRIBUTE TO BETRAYER

When is love felt by a youth,

amidst all treasures of his heart?
Dawn in his life comes to soothe,
revealing the trick of nature's art.

A horizon comes to divide,
his beautiful world into two.
With his beloved by his side,
he cared, for what he had to.

When is a youth left lonely,
for words, like speeding dart?
The 'true face', made alone only,
and so, his world did fall apart!


Prasenjit©1997-2012

TO MANDELA

Of all the joys we get,

and desire more, we can.
They who in dreams met,
the lonely despair of a man!

Of all the joys we give,
and desire more, we can.
Ease the pain and relieve,
a race - put under petty ban!

What if the skin was black,
dark eyes with mind so pure?
Its that, the whites were slack,
and a devil's brain had no cure!


Prasenjit©1997-2012

CONSCIENCE

Situations often drift away,

like straws on rough waves.
Hold us ransom in dismay,
as if caught by the braves.

Up and down the blob and toss,
seeing light on both sides.
What was gain, now a loss,
but were once joyous rides.

We like weather, often change,
and find the change we need.
We justify wrongs; Pretty strange,
yet do not surpass our greed.

Our actions are often below par,
and cud' have helped a lonely life.
Our actions that make or mar,
and cut thru' conscience like a knife.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

THE DARK GEM

Not all gems of my crown,

does equally in light shine.
Some in darkness do drown,
though all of them are mine.

The radiant ruby, perfect pearl,
are the gems to one's eye.
Fitted on golden rim and curl,
the king's lofty pride is high.

Selfsame are the toil of men,
get lost in the dark gorges.
Perspire in sweat, all even,
in fire thus, shapes and forges.

Not always, honesty have a prize,
though it should have been.
Blind! Are we? Its time to rise,
and show others what we have seen.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

ON THE BORDER

Stretched across the borderline,

soldiers stand on alert - all.
On another side, a country fine,
waiting for a hopeless fall.

Soldiers taking orders to abide, 
not thinking about it ever.
Innocents plundered, a wrong side,
their voices suppressed forever.

The seat of the power decides it,
the plundering for times to come.
The nakeds have no meal to eat,
the orphans, thus satans become!

Oppressed from both the sides,
create a wall of their own.
Wretched politics, power rides,
the homeless are left alone.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

OF MEMORIES

An aching heart, a choked mind,

of memoirs past, lets rewind.
A bright sun, a sunny day,
seemed as if, I know my way.

A shrouded sun, a gray day,
seemed as if there is no way.
A heavy heart, nothing in sight,
with her words just made it right.

Made a habit, I fell for it,
sounded betrayal - no retreat!
A tough heart, a troubled mind,
of memoirs dear, I unwind...

Prasenjit©1997-2012

BROKEN BOUGH

They who make a promise,

would know it for sure.

A bough broken from trees,

will wilt for want of cure.

Had it been on the tree,

boughs would dangle free.

Birds on it could have perch,

of now, no remains to search.

They who snatch and rob,

yet not their conscience prick.

The losers who weep and sob,

and fall prey to their lovely trick!

They who cast sweet charms,

and hold our heart in sway.

They who kissed, had lovely arms,

yet left us alone on the way.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

WHAT SHE FELT?

'I want to live full this day',

often I heard my mother say.

Maybe knowing days are less,

wishes undone - all in a mess.

Truly, she wants to laugh,

treading on road so rough.

Despair brings heart to book,

laden with grief in every nook.

'I wish I could live more',

she felt with a heart so sore.

One day her pain will cease,

and her body put to ease.

Truly, she wants to live,

a life where she could give.

Her child will be lonely then,

coming days, she knows not when.

She felt pain, but kept silent so,

an aching heart - we will never know.

Turmoil, anguish of the dying days,

put forth a fight is so many ways.

'I have lived full this day',

will I hear my mother say?

Sure, I know her days are less,

some done - with some in mess.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

ROAD NOT TAKEN

What about the promises broken,

and words in faith not kept?
Memoirs always a lovely token,
for those who in sadness wept.

What about the silent tears,
that made the pillows wet?
Expressed in form of fears,
that make the dreams to fret.

What about a path not trod,
with no one by our side?
Emptiness that none do prod,
our life a vacant gypsy ride.

What of a dream not dreamt,
that once build palaces of gold?
The thoughts that in youth tempt,
not all dreams live till we're old.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

REBELLION RISES

The leader on the dias stands,

delivering words of wisdom rare.
Followed by his faithful bands,
to ease what they face and fare.

His voice, his eyes, audience in awe,
some spellbound hear him speak.
He related what he felt and saw,
told the importance of a clock's tick.

They were thoughtful - listened more,
his faith and power moving his hand.
His principles embedded to the core,
people glued like the wave of wand.

Like lava flow their blood boiled,
he mustered strength in his speech.
A king's conspiracy he thus foiled,
and woke the souls within his reach.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

THE HAWKER

The hawker on the street yelled,
trying to sell his wares.
The basket with his hand he held,
bright curtains folded in layers.


He had bangles, rings and chains,
seen with a smile from the panes.
Colours of joy was on her face,
a chain adorned her neck with grace.


He trudges through busy lanes,
facing loss or having gains.
Profuse sweating and sweltering heat,
sometimes without no food to eat.


He has a daughter aged ten,
who wanted bangles now and then.
He couldn't give a pair to her,
the broken heart had a childish scar.


He saw his 'daughter' in 'other girls',
who would wear necklace of pearls.
She was a princess by her looks,
but the Lord had her in different books.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

THE TEMPLE

As the temple bell hum around,
forehead of priest touches the ground.
The day begins - hymns and chants,
while a monk waters the plants.


A red flag waving atop the dome,
the scent of incense - a divine home.
The priest in saffron, picking flowers,
he does it daily, in the early hours.


Some birds chirp, while some flies,
a thing of beauty, for innocent eyes.
People throng through temple gate,
eager to change their written fate.


Prayer and murmur from faith arose,
day after day as the time goes.
The holy priest pray and preach,
alike for the beggars or the rich.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

FAITH

Here now blows a gentle breeze,
like a teddy, nods coconut trees.
A mud wall and a thatched roof,
lives a widow with scarcity as proof.


She is lonely but not alone,
faith resides deep in her bone.
In mid-June, a sun kissed porch,
the golden straws, ready to scorch.


Dark clouds by start of May,
wet those walls everyday.
Pain and tears swept in rain,
frail she grows, as seasons gain.


Moneylenders knock her all day,
she lives in shame, in this way.
Passed more than eighty springs,
yet no relief her Almighty brings!


Prasenjit©1997-2012

EGO

Some live with their ego,
while others just let it go.
We build a wall around us,
and make such unwanted fuss.


If we would just know,
ego is not a thing to show.
Breaks the ice, makes a rift,
with time, we slowly drift.


Like icebergs we float apart,
ego spoiled all, at the start.
With time the gaps grow,
drifting on with confusion below.


We keep our ego still in vain,
good things lost, lost with pain.
Open your eyes, its not too late,
you still have friends who do wait.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

WHAT IS IT?

What is in a dream,
from the present to the past?
Starry skies and sunbeam,
a world of fairy tale at last.


What is in a sorrow,
for which tears fall and we cry?
From the future till tomorrow,
for the better we should try.


What is in a glee,
for which the present is heaven?
Grief like butterflies flee,
the boon from God to us is given.


What is in a deed,
for which the mind feels good?
As leaders we always lead,
to usher in an era, as we should.


What is in a choice,
from which we often choose?
Conflicting thoughts and inner voice,
for which we often win or lose.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

IN HIS FOOTSTEPS

I have seen him since a kid,
sold fruits for mouths to feed.
He was then a young lad,
and ran the show like his dad.


His dad had a nagging cough,
the doctors dealt but it was tough.
He took to bed slowly one day,
the ground he stood on swept away.


Words of doctors he abided by,
pain in chest but spirits held high.
Doctors came now lesser to him,
as every passing day was grim.


With wet cheeks his wife sobbed,
as his future was slowly robbed.
Wrinkles still on the forehead show,
that his end was near, he didn't know.


He wanted to live for family's sake,
but one day slept never to wake.
He is now, no more a young lad,
but a trader better than his dad.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

MOTHER'S PATIENCE

I still remember as a child,
my tantrums of olden days.
Scolded me - my mother so mild,
I troubled her in many ways.


Some memories remain, some parted,
while some new will be stored.
She was noble and kind hearted,
her love was a shield, I adored.


She cared and tendered, days went by,
always her patience put to test.
I now remember with a sigh,
she took the rough and gave the best.
She spoke of wisdom with a cheer,
while hiding carefully a drop of tear.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

A STRAY MIND

Where does it travel - a stray mind?
In search of solace - an eternal find.
Where does it end - the blue skies?
A journey to eternity as one dies.

What does it do, a mind so pale?
Struggles very hard before it can fail.
How is a life spent - an hour?
We climb up hard till the end of tower.

How does it fare - a mind so hard?
Withstood the rough with deep regard.
Where are the words to praise the sun?
We men are so limited - we have none.

What does it say - a mind that knows?
Preaches an ill-mind, removing morose.
What about grief that is not heeded?
Tis' not late, it is to be unweeded.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

ON MY OLD AGE

There will be silence when I'm dead,
with sanity gone away from my head.
Youth in me gives way to the old,
now a frail mind that was once so bold.

Fingers weak, once had a tight grip,
boasted of strength, it could rip.
Strong sinews of youth beyond measure,
now gone but was once a treasure.

Through stormy dreams youth sails,
struggles on but in old age fails.
What in youth once put a mark,
now in old age like doubts lurk.

Pride once throbbed in my chest,
will be no more but put to rest.
The old man in me will be put to flame,
I lived life my way with none to blame.

Prasenjit©1997-2012

UNCROWNED QUEEN

Just in the distance on grass she lies,

with trust in her beautiful mystic eyes.
She stands tall in her unending charity,
and is showered praises for humility.

She has neither anger nor pride,
thus making life a joyous ride.
She is a woman full of cares,
thus relieving others of despairs.

The man she loved and glorified,
was true to her soul to abide.
Always she lightened gloomy hours,
like a rainbow after summer showers.

Love on angel's wings knocked on door,
if departed would have come no more.
The queen of my life - still uncrowned,
and king like me is never to be found.


Prasenjit©1997-2012

A NAMELESS GRAVE

What would be my name,

before I am laid in the grave?

All along life was a game,

both joy and gloom to me it gave.

What would be my name,

before the flames devour me up?

Never did I run after fame,

loved the rain and filled life's cup.

Worthy? Unworthy? Who cares?

Though some blurt with careless eyes.

Hardly matters - who stands up and dares,

and mocks the world full of lies!

What about such people we say,

those who do not judge or ponder?

People who see darkness while its day,

with a garbled mind; Silly! I wonder!

What would I be? A myth?

When I have to meet my destiny...

I have dreams to be happy with,

for the next world like others so many.

Prasenjit©1997-2012