Sunday, October 1, 2017




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.


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”.


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.
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.


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.


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.


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 “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.

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