By Srijith Raha
Loveth Oft Hurts
Thee mistresses art mast’rs in hiding thy w’rds,
Did dress up with secrets and p’rplex affairs;
So doth I crave to studyeth thy heart,
Nudge thy soul and seeketh me th’re.
Buds doth has’t pollens huddl’d in groups,
So doth thee heart p’rtion’d by beaus,
Gulping thy nectar f’r me to starve,
And flare with woe quitting nay v’rbs.
Breathes shalt pauseth to graves of time;
Those hearts may loseth the warmth of lust,
Thine tears may reside in eyes of mine
But thee’ve hath lost thy dearest steadfast.
Petals has’t fallen to maketh th’rns thriveth,
Longest hath passed the lov’rs yet their ode surviveth.
We the silent lovers of nature,
So close to the beings, yet far from thou quirks,
Meet so often in the dark
As the eye of heaven overrides.
Far from the north-east,
My lover pushes the prow
Her tears of longing in startled little waves,
Leaping, blushing forming echoes.
The hairs from my skin blooms the petals of love
Welcoming her glow to make them wet,
Lingers their fragrance that hugs love to everlast…
Just as the Blue-God embraces his soul.
Death of a Poet
The dead poet rested beside the river
Rocks crumbling down the steeps
The poet was lost,
Lost in his paradise of art.
The magnificent aura of his creation
Failed to fascinate his fellow counterparts.
He, who was never recognized,
Wore the garland of melancholy
Faced the daylight
Stabbing rusted knife over the same wound
Kurt, Sylvia might’ve helped him hide his tears…
But failed to gain his faith.
Autumn leaves covering his corpse,
Letters escaped the dark orb of his mouth
And the river drank those
Which were never heard again except
Broken lovers who whispered in the river —
Sounded like love poems.
Srijit Raha holds a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English literature from University of Calcutta. He is a Poet by Passion. He lives in Kolkata, India.
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