CLEAR DARKNESS

Dark region, more darker now,

where the tall was forced to bow.

The earth spins and money rolls -

the ungodly tormented good souls.

In homeland - their rights denied,

slaughtered men and their pride.

For food the dark people toils

and the white took away the spoils.

Drove them to a point of no return,

humans and homes put down to burn.

The oppressed didn't find a way -

so bore pain to live another day.

Now deep mines, once vacant plains,

where diamond and gold now reigns.

Africa and its dark long coast,

played the role of a devil's host.

Turned into iron hearts of gold

then made blind profits manifold.

Straining of muscles and its tear,

got drowned in merriment and cheer.

They who got the gems and stones,

turned deaf to cries and moans.

Wars, battles, strifes never end -

the peacekeepers thus rules bend.

They who came with humane task,

was found hiding in cape and mask.

Prasenjit©2022

A SLAVE - FREEDOM

Let us gather as The One Power -

History beckons, call of the hour.

Once a hatred now turned to fire,

torches for future keep burning in ire.

I wipe my tears now to enjoy the view -

my home, where fell honey kissed dew.

Let us now spill, let it just overflow -

the darkened blood of tyrants we owe.

You were Gods? Never - We proclaim,

when humanity died was of utter shame.

Send those bodies to England's coast

wherein their homes they used to boast.

Down on their knees ridden with guilt -

make them know how blood was spilt.

I now return home, to my golden shore,

where we have oppressors no more.

Prasenjit©2022

A SLAVE - REBELLION

Let the low whispers come together,

and pierce clouds for sunny weather.

Let voices mingle, rebellions rise,

and the puny gods taken by surprise.

Let it spread - furore and fiery rage,

hand-in-hand let's all of us engage.

New history in those blank pages,

written in blood as long as war wages.

Let me in my eternal agony burn,

so that others may stand and turn.

Let me cherish how much I hate,

so that I may change others fate.

Let me in my oozing blood rot,

moments of pain not to be forgot.

Pull them out of their cozy shade,

which once our nimble fingers made.

Prasenjit©2022

A SLAVE - PROTEST

A sparrow attacks an eagle huge,

why should I be my master's stooge?

I have maybe few days to live,

but I to myself would never forgive -

If we do not this devil's ship sink,

as we stand on lawlessness brink.

Sometimes, when my eyes close -

I relive the slaves' painful woes.

I would sacrifice what is mine -

never before whites I would resign.

Even if untimely I go to my grave,

I would stop the loot and save.

The only thing my vengeance aspire -

is to burn our master in the bonfire.

On planks cut from dense green wood -

for nights we went hungry without food.

Prasenjit©2022

A SLAVE - CAPTURE

I wanted to live but I would die.

The torments on me, I can't defy.

They took me away from my shore

whose golden sands I'd see no more.

The power that my hand wields,

the whites use on the cotton fields.

From the shiny white cotton balls,

tears of the dark skin falls.

None felt, no one ever batted an eye -

in Atlantic drowned the Negros' sigh.

All of humanity to me seemed dead

when they allowed the slave trade.

Whips made their thin red mark,

so in our minds fear thrive and lurk.

It is absurd to forget those tales,

where lust ravaged young females.

Prasenjit©2022

I HAVE SEEN

I am glad that the sky is blue
and our earth is painted green.

All changing like rainbow's hue

and beauty sandwiched between.

I have seen the petals wilt,

drop from a velvety rose.

A glory nature once built,

now no more, nobody knows.

I have seen the setting sun

flash on wings of the bird.

People have no time for fun,

so nobody about it had heard.

I have seen the snowy fog

spread over the endless sea.

It should give our senses a jog

forever - Or is it just only me?

In between the bushy green ferns,

have you seen moss creep on stone?

A thing that one from nature learns

is that patience grows in us all alone.

Prasenjit©2022

A LIFE (TRAVELLING)

It would be harsh and rude

if I don't stop by the green wood.

Far as eyes could see the glen,

wants wear for the steps of men.

To get lost in mist, the lonely 'I',

wants to be where peaks meet the sky.

The gurgling of the curvy brook,

a path which some travellers took.

The scenes of those flying rook,

would be aces in my mind's book.

The sun with its slanting rays,

signal the end of its golden days.

I want to scale the foggy peak,

thru' mossy paths where insects peek.

Crickets sing in caterpillars' band -

after a time will come an open land.

One day it will end, a very long year,

so tiringly draws my harbor near.

Before it ends - 'my natural age',

I want to cross the dark hedge.

Beyond every doubt and fear,

lies a lush meadow - shiny and clear.

Let my courage in me stay -

my only guide to show my way.

Thus, I'd cross a dark forest yard,

run, walk, crawl - I will try very hard.

The ones who take thorns and hits,

in time get the summer's sweets.

Prasenjit©2022

THE ENLIGHTENED ONE

Born to wealth by his birth,

a royal prince in his palace.

A holy soul born on earth

carried self in angelic grace.

Riding in his royal palanquin,

he saw merriment and despair.

Pulling apart curtains in between,

what he saw he couldn't compare.

Left his royalty one night

and wandered out in the dark.

He wanted the truth in sight

and searched for the holy spark.

He roamed and begged for alms

and preached everyone of them all.

People soothed eternally in calms

and The Enlightened One stood tall.

Prasenjit©2022

UNSUNG HERO

A red horizon in dawn and dusk,

reddened a field with strewn husk.

Once green plains, now it is red

as heaps of warriors there lay dead.

The horses and their echoing clop

with setting sun somehow do stop.

At new day, on the very same field -

New souls would their swords wield.

Stench of blood none does compare;

martyrs are born in a bloody lair.

On tusker sat an emperor - The Great

who saw a region as future threat.

Readily piled corpses and bones,

thus survived kings and their thrones.

The king always remained unhurt,

while the commoners bit the dirt.

History tells a glorious king's tale,

while both horse and the hero fell.

Moans of families and their sigh,

got drowned in the horses' neigh.

Prasenjit©2022

TWO TULIPS

Two tulips on the same tree

grew together wild and free.

Down the valley a breeze blew

while bees and butterflies flew. 

Whispering came winds of spring,

scent of the North they did bring.

With time they were in full bloom,

but the mood was one of gloom.

Plucked into a different basket -

one went on the Bishop's casket

while other got a heavenly nod

and was kept on the altar of God.

Prasenjit©2022

BUSY BEES

All the time busy in buzz,

no rest - only work it does.

Sucking of the nectar beads,

a firm part of its daily deeds.

Flying for five miles to three,

moving from one to another tree.

Some nectar may trickle or drip,

in dimming sunset it ends it's trip.

As the load in the combs release,

the workers do as the queen please.

The comb they make - busy bees,

in their buzz they remain at ease.

Prasenjit©2022

A YEAR

A full turn the Earth takes,

a day and night thus makes.

Then the seven days pass by -

a full week does then comply.

Sooner the month will end -

Full moon, new moon at the bend.

The seasons will change its mood

as to it festivals are eternally glued.

From parched earth to being wet,

seeing nature in its glorious duet.

Facing the sun, our blue sphere

will timely end an elegant year. 

Prasenjit©2022

MORTAR AND PESTLE

The mortar and the pestle

do grind as in duty bound.

As men in real life wrestle

morn to night circling round.

Spices from varying birth

get pounded on mortar.

Mixing up of the mirth

where life knows no barter.

The pestle ground the spices

as situations shape a man;

and forge a man sans vices,

freeing aroma as they can.

Prasenjit©2022

A CHILD'S SOUL

What is meant thru' the tongue

knocks your mind, soul is rung.

What is brought unto the light,

devours darkness shining bright.

Feeding the soul beyond death

starts with life in every breath.

The body then frees the soul,

in time it's the only goal.

Like putting aside old attire

soul is unbonded in holy fire.

We live like those who are blind,

pulling curtains over our mind.

Then at the end we close our eyes

in a belief to see the paradise.

Paradise? It was in the child,

you didn't embrace as he smiled.

Prasenjit©2022

CHARACTER

We are always what we are,

prisoners of our own device.

From here to a distant star

or from hellfire to stony ice.

Chaotic we live, in chaos found -

We hope for change from the rest.

We pine for blood like a hound -

Yet hope to unload our chest.

What is true, proven and said,

we keep aside, sometimes beneath.

Like a true sword shining overhead,

yet still keep it in its dark sheath.

We are beings of the same branch,

yet our mind have shades of gray.

Life slides down like avalanche -

beneath our shady ideas we lay.

Prasenjit©2022

TEMPLE GATE

Adorned is your temple gate

made by blessed masons' hands.

People visit to change their fate

by some unreal magic wands.

Conch shells, hymns and prayer

spread around far and wide.

A feeling of the ethereal air,

some orisons ready to be replied.

How can pain escape His eyes

when the light have brightly shone?

Unheeded remained sobs and sighs,

pain of unblessed remain unknown. 

Prasenjit©2022

A MARTYR'S MOTHER

She waited eagerly at her door

for someone she never saw before.

She hoped atleast for a call on phone

but in despair sat all day alone.

Each passing day - he didn't come.

No contact with his old mum.

No call ever came back - no.

Why? She failed to understand so.

Maybe she will never see him - ever;

A wish not to be fulfilled - never.

Life surely could have been better,

with her son's call or even a letter.

Prasenjit©2022

SUNSET PARK

An old couple was on a marble bench

while nearby some kids played.

Wrinkled palms held in loving clench -

a promise in youth not betrayed.

A pet with its owner strolled -

the man was busy on his phone.

Paws folded on grass it rolled

while he talked with someone known.

Saree clad women sat on ground

watchful on their children though.

Joyous minds screamed all around,

thus comes a setting sun as we know.

Prasenjit©2022

INFANT'S DREAM

Soft curled fingers, the baby sleeps;

With a tender cry the mother leaps -

A hungry baby now profusely weeps.

From a calm dream he thus wakes

with the gentleness of snowy flakes.

Searching for mother as nature makes -

outstretch his hands as dawn breaks.

Wake, eat, sleep and then falls the light

as dreams come again into the night.

Swinging like a jovial, colourful kite,

it is how innocence take their flight. 

Prasenjit©2022

LIFE - A RIDE

Give your boatsman a shake

for he must now readily wake.

The lives of all are at stake.

Sail into the sea from the shore

and for that cling hard to your oar.

You need to rise, above all soar.

Do not listen to the ill-pratter

of the drops of foamy water.

Lookup! Set your course straighter.

You must listen, you have to know

there is no time to rest - you must go.

For the rest us this is what we owe.

Life is one but a big rocking boat

which playfully tends to sink or float.

Untie your past and do not gloat.

Prasenjit©2022

DAWN AND DUSK

The past was cold, dark and dreary,

emotions rained but I wasn't weary.

Like a tendril clinging to moist wall,

but on every shake dead leaves fall.

The eve was cold, dark and dreary,

but the midnight I hope isn't weary.

The ghosts of my past still hanker,

dragging back like a rusty anchor.

My gloom is the common fate of all,

in each life though some rain must fall.

The dawn I feel now is glad and merry,

but the past was cold, dark and dreary.

Prasenjit©2022

THE TRAP

All His beings have rightful wings

yet few take pains to morally fly.

We are all in our own world - kings

and still keep gliding in a dark sky. 

All His beings have divine claws

yet few perch on the true branches.

We all have our self-made flaws

and yet spend time in deep trenches.

All His beings have clear brains

yet few only put it to a just use.

We bind ourselves in ego's chains

and still fall prey to our own ruse. 

Prasenjit©2022

TOMBSTONE

Here they are in their tomb,

etched on the stone is their name.

Sleeping forever in Nature's womb,

who once outlived their earthly fame.

Cramped now in six feet or less,

together they are side by side.

Once in palaces of grandeur space,

here now they lay as nature abide.

A new journey in this dark room,

has now started for those dead.

Teardrops fall, none knows for whom,

while in peace they are in their bed.

Prasenjit©2022

A MARTYR'S BIRTH

Up above the rising glowing red,

a dying soldier turned up his head.

A cut and scatched body full of burns -

same story of those with no returns.

Half opened but glowing were his eyes,

as he looked up to reddening skies.

Further beyond would rise his name,

his act ensured all glory and fame.

Forever will stop his smile, jolly talk -

his cold body now pale as a chalk.

This choice he made with no haste,

he was a proud soldier of decent taste. 

'The One' gone with enemy's curses,

a 'New One' instead his role rehearses.

Not sullen but he was calm and mild -

It's how martyrs tame Death in the wild.

Prasenjit©2022

SEA SHORE

Have you heard the gentle roar,

when waves lash onto shore?

Seems like an army of hordes,

who are about to cross swords.

Have you anything heard 'em say,

when they plunge and wash away?

Seems like Titans on a battlefield,

with drawn swords never to yield.

Have you heard secrets of the rocks,

on whom the foamy water mocks?

Seems like jovial toddlers at play,

full of glee in their own merry way.

Prasenjit©2022

BONDED WINGS

It is the lonely 'I' in the captive 'me',

who wants to fly but couldn't be -
like the cranes on open grassy field,

spreading wings - none concealed!

With the setting sun, my dear home,

where childhood does freely roam.
Though I am of it sadly aware,

this is nothing but the caged air!

The moon will come, the sun away -

thus did set one fine golden day.

I try to flutter my bonded wings,
guessing what true freedom brings!

This, the only true life - it's a given,

we make our hell or our own heaven.

Prasenjit©2022

KNOWLEDGE

Knowledge that do coffers fill,

knowledge that runs a mill.

Knowledge that clears the vile,

knowledge that runs a mile.

Knowledge that is an anchor,

knowledge that defies rancour.

Knowledge that is the truth,

knowledge that is rebel youth.

Knowledge that on altars stand,

knowledge flow like the sand.

Knowledge that is now a bud,

knowledge that flow like blood.

Knowledge not for cowardly pack,

knowledge for those who fight back.

Knowledge that gravity defies,

knowledge that helps to rise.

Prasenjit©2022

PRISONER OF IDEAS

We're captives of ideas and time

and live within our own bubble.

Some realise it in their prime,

while others face lifelong trouble.

We look into mirror, not thru' glass

and see ourselves - not beyond.

Our ideas hold us back - alas!

Thus, unable to break this bond.

So rages wars, conflicts, battles -

each a prisoner of their own mind.

At length unease, conscience rattles -

a lifelong solace they could not find.

Prasenjit©2022

A PRISONER KING

Aptly adorned by a crown,
he was known to be a just king.

Justice done without a frown,

thus so all the minstrels sing.

Content with son and queen,

his subjects were happy too.

He kept his glorious sheen

and flair with a lovely hue.

Sunrays fell on his tired face,

he now got startled a bit.

Dream gone without a trace

as he saw himself in a dark pit.

Power and tears both fell -

a misguided minister betrayed.

Mum now with nothing to tell,

on his knees he faithfully prayed.

Prasenjit©2022

THE BEACH

Walking on the wet sand,
I picked some in tight grips.
It went out of my hand,
thru' gaps as it readily trips.

I wanted to hold onto some

and know the secrets they tell.

It was just wet and glum,

yet from my palm they fell. 

Demonic waves lashed away,

took them away from me.

Nothing to me they could say,

before they mingled in the sea.

Prasenjit©2022

TEMPLE MEMORIES

Upwards there is heaven

while hell is down below.

Good deeds not forsaken,

the rest is cursed we know.

It's just a state of the mind,

while we point different ways.

These ideas in childhood bind,

which forever change our gaze.

That was told to me by a priest

while on the portico I sat.

The big idea was in a gist

and he hoped all to know that. 

Prasenjit©2022

THE FATHER (SPEAKS)

A son visited the cremation site,

late in the evening - nearing night.

He sat afar, alone and still,

fleeting memories, nothing to feel.

"Do not sit here and weep" -

said a voice - he was thinking deep.

"I am not here darling Bob,

hold your tears and do not sob."

It was Bobby's father, he knew,

like thousand winds he blew.

"I am now the smoky cloudy train,

I am your sweet summer rain.

I am your sunny morning silence,

glowing like dew on your fence."

By now his father - ashes' heap,

the memories are forever to keep.

He sat there till morning's hush,

all around now quick uplifting rush.

The ashes in water gently flowed,

tears in water like diamonds glowed.

He turned around up the stairs,

as he finished his last prayers.

Standing there...

On the sultry morning of May,

He knew...

He would meet his Father one day.

Prasenjit©2022