TANNI BOSE

TANNI BOSE

THE EYES HAVE IT

Those pair of stoic blue eyes

Like the blue water of ocean deep

Reveal the secret of the ocean of human heart

At times kind and divulging goodness

Sometimes tired and exhausted

Caressing the precious life surrounding it

Tears salty from the oceanic eyes so blue

Overlapping the boundaries

at high tide of human emotions

Possess an inviting, warm and pleasant look at sunny mornings

At times leaving a fearful uninviting glance in the tempest

Dear eyes, how lustrous and lively is your benevolent look

No secret lies hidden behind your walls

Good gracious eyes,

you convey numerous thoughts that poor words fail

I have seen you burning in hatred

I have seen you dancing in joy

Always watchful and wide awake

Without you the world is dark and mysterious

Your innocence is a charm to take pleasure in

You command, request, ask, forgive, plead, deny ……………

A rare cluster of emotions

So, I say- The eyes have it.

SORROW

A deserted maiden laments on the meadow,

When enquired, I say “she is sorrow.”

Abandoned all alone, no hopes to receive a friend,

Passer-by glance at her and she mourns in pain.

Sorrow and happiness on a fine morn,

Sat by the lake and debated- they say.

Of greatness, power and friends as a goal

each casted opinion on their personal role.

Happiness had boundless to speak,

Of goodness, health, wealth, fame and friends indeed

Sorrow had no reasons of happiness

Since it was never heartily accepted.

Happiness had ever royal things to claim,

Sorrow looked pale and envied its opponent

At the finale the expected happened

Happiness won with a landslide bargain.

Then did sorrow lament on her existence

Why am I alive with no one as my friend?

I am a loner with no company

Seeking for a mate but deprived of acquaintance.

Sorrow then reveals a secret to its opponent,

leaves a mark on the debated statement.

“I am the winner and you lose the game’’,

Says sorrow with sharpness certain.

Although I am unwanted, people try to abstain

I am the one who masters the game.

“You are good and filled with gifts

But seldom do people get the largesse”.

They want to abide by your side

But land up with my company beside

So, I am the winner and ever will be

Since they say, “I am the world and the world is me”.

MOLESTED CLAY

An insignificant heap of untainted clay

Lay unattended near the temple

One day a hand surfaced for its rescue

for its release, for its liberation.

Molded, fashioned, designed and reshaped it

Again it underwent modifications

Every new identity was matchless.

Then,

The hand turned the clay into a lovely maiden

Offered it color

Colour of passion, colour of faith, colour of custody

The nameless clay converted to “she”

“She” was standing on the shelf

Waiting for reason unknown

All over again many hands “grabbed” it

and inspected with scrutinizing black eyes

Examined it……..

By evening she was still waiting at the fair

A strong wind with rough rain

Blew off the fake roof of the shop

She was drenched

Became colourless, slowly melted away in to the soil

At last—a reunion.

ASHES IN THE AIR

Brutally was I stabbed

And made resplendently immortal;

I desired to live and then tranquilly die.

Had no urge to live beyond

But was stabbed and made immortal.

On my life there was no noise

But my forced death raised voice.

My ashes failed to amalgamate with holy Ganges

I was all over in the air

I lament on my unasked immortality

I wished to live in life,

Not after death.

LUST

An insignificant anonymous splinter

Undeniably, an indication of expectation

I spot it gleaming with radiance

Small, red and petite.

I am born, it jovially proclaims

I am here it confidently affirms

I run to see it closely

It defuses but yet again gets ablaze

I watch it fixed with hope Oh dear…..

I see it fraught

The wind stands as a test

The splinter confers a diehard attempt

Yet, it breathes

It matures, gains vigor

Now the rival wind becomes a comrade.

No more an antagonist to slay it

I am happy to see the splinter gain vigor

It grows and with it breeds its lust.

The tiny splinter transforms into a desirable maiden

Maiden of supremacy and hunger

Now I prophesize the peril

She moves ahead engulfing the woods

Consuming the pureness of nature

She runs with wild possession of consummate

I watch her with helplessness

Blanketing the splendor with flames of indignation

Proclaiming the death of dreams.

TANNI BOSE

Mrs. TANNI BOSE works as an educator in Aravali International School, Faridabad now. She was an English Teacher at Tendruk Higher Secondary School of the Royal Government of Bhutan hails from Kolkata, West Bengal. Writing was always a passion for Mrs. Tanni. However, 2008 became a defining year in her life since she could publish a few of her works in the school magazine and made a self-discovery that she was indeed in romance with literature. It formally bloomed in 2012 when her first anthology “Dawn and Dusk” was published. Her readers, including critics confessed that a new breeze in poetry writing is here to blow to soothe and to ruffle too, of course. Her passion for reading and writing assured her a berth in the Writers Association of Bhutan and the Edu Talk where she thinks aloud to make the readers ponder, delight and at times wrinkle their brows. Her writing in facebook and her blog “A Grain of Faith” are being followed by many. Her articles in “Student Digest and Norzam Speaks” both publications in Bhutan are well taken by readers at large. She also contributes regularly in the international journal by Ciberwitnet.com “Taj Mahal Review” She has represented Bhutan as an official delegate in the SAARC Literary festivals in Thimphu, Bhutan in 2013. She was a delegate in the FOSWAL Literary Festivals at Agra and Jaipur in 2015   At Delhi in 2016 February ,and  Jaipur in October 2016  as well. “Floating Stones” is her second work of poems, ringing the inescapable paradox of existential pulls and pushes. The poetess here is swayed by multiple senses and sensibilities, reflected in these poems. Her third Book “The Molested Clay” is published by Authors Press. Her upcoming novel and poetry book is ready to publish. Writing apart, Mrs. Bose loves reading, music and her students. Love given reciprocates. After all – books support her; music heals her aches and her students adore her. Life then becomes poetry to her.