BISWANATH KAR

 

Wake Up Poet Rise Up

 

Words take on wings and fly around me

They bother me singing and dancing and

Jumping n whispering in my ears like a bee

They call me with a new rhythm and trend.

 

Alphabets sit together with pairs at my table

With playful smile shake me n softly treat

Respectfully hand me pen and paper roll

Calling me softly wake up poet dear poet.

 

Rise up poet the night is going to an end

See the polar is risen on the sky with beam

Like lovers’ words kiss me with love untold

Telling me it is time to rise and write poem.

 

Open wide sleepy eyes in the lyric of words

They are under the veil with speaking eyes

Are sitting pretty at my bed like newly weds

Murmured with passion of creation of poems.

Open the window and see the moonlit sky

Indescribable nature is spreading beauty

The magic of night seems new looks to eye

Wake up poet rise up to write lovely poetry.

 

I Feel Writing

 

I feel writing something digging the past

From the graves of history unto the last

To write and write a poem that never ends

Dedicated to you the rhythms boundless.

 

It will never end even seven days n nights

In the empty horizon the green map sorts

Arranging the runaway living words of love

Under the black pagoda or captivated eyes.

 

Write and write and I should write a poem

In the green ink of memory on grey horizon

Your smiles on the lips and on spoken eyes

Are your smiles less than that of Monalisa’s.

 

Your drowsy eyes rhythmical slow move

Wetted my past memories of sweet love

The soft wavy sweet wind that touched

Your body with fragrant flowers covered.

 

My poetic mind wandering hither n thither

In the forest of words with rainbow colour

Could I live here without writing any poetry

Whether it is a cymbal of passion or booty.

 

When Words Are Strayed

 

When words are strayed, I’m impoverished

Impoverished the entire world around me

Fell inch by inch my poetic corners of mind

Songs of my love and passions don’t chime.

 

Every morning and evening seem unreal

Tasteless colourless n ordinary senseless

Dreams seem no dearly forgetting to dwell

In me but lost ways in cursed island’s base.

 

Poetry never blooms at the absence of word

The branch of strong emotions burns to ash

Lose in air my calls to words though aloud

My feelings catch fire in despair by air crash.

 

All the seven colours of rainbow fade away

Making all my nights colourless and cursed

The moon and stars deserted the sky and fly

The chirpings of empty words betray the bard.

 

How can a bard like me write without a word

How can I create new creations for readers

I’m disappointed much as words are strayed

I can’t write, oh words come down from airs.

 

BISWANATH KAR

BISWANATH KAR: Odisha, India. M A, L L B. He writes poetry both in English and in his mother tounge Odia. He has published Eleven Books of Odia Poetry, one book of English Poetry