THE CLEANER

Trash here and dirt over there
all around with smell so foul.

He always sweeps the road truly fair

while unsound minds with words prowl.

Taking all in his stride, no protest

no holidays, even during heavy rain.

He heartily tries to give his best, but

couldn't clean the souls of unclean men.

Waste in van and smile on his face

he does his part from morn to noon.

Pays no heed, couldn't care less,

his zeal shows he won't give so soon.

Prasenjit©1997-2020

KILLING A DREAM

Sometimes I dream a dream

in the darkest of the dark days.

Sailing towards a golden rim

in the brightest of night, always!

I see just the best in a dream

that did not happen with open eyes.

Tears from clouds, then a shiny gleam

awakening me as a new day arise.

Dream is like a toddler - free of guilt,

innocent and free in a sweet dream.

We stand on what we have built,

that which is rugged, tall and grim.

A dream that follows kills the other

while I had high hopes for this dream.

Wished to have stayed with this rather,

and sail together like an eternal team.

The life of my beautiful dreams

are like diamond dews on the leaves.

Together we are so  it seems

me and my lonliness - alone it grieves.

What if my dreams would be true,

and life itself be an unending dream?

Life would be made of a lovely hue,

and this dream would live in my dream!

Prasenjit©1997-2020

THE PRIEST

As far as my memory recall

I remember a priest robed in white.

who talked to God for the commoners all

and did that with dedication and might.

A noble soul and surely His pride

whose heart was bigger than the temple gate.

The priest gave relief to those who cried,

the helpless who can't change their fate.

Tirelessly he worked from dawn to night

and never thought about his own.

He eased those who were in plight

and this was how he was known.

A decade passed and he was feeble and old

but he was spirited like the yesteryears.

He had his charm in being bold

and his virtue removed all his fears.

People were pleased and so were the Gods

whom he served with his faith and trust.

A heavenly soul who battled all odds

and in worldly deceits he did not rust.

He was the Hand of God, an angelic guide

whose words and touch healed men.

With time he took to bed, people by his side

and I believe one day he would come again.

Prasenjit©1997-2020