VERSETILE

Covid-19

Let wind to dump black clouds
nowhere in the sky.
It can’t roar to downpour;
Let us be fire to combat being cruel and sour.
A constant motion of threat to
acknowledge
Threats that design from our
mistakes;
Let wind to brush off black clouds of distaste.
That never to erase tears for fears!
Let the winter sun not to shine!
Thou have made the world,
A dark place of war;
At thy point of sword never sober,
Admit, there are no places for everyone
The world is one!
How can thou think ever to live here?
Summer would knock Covid-19 to sway;
Let’s learn from our mistakes!
Let cleanliness to find and be a way
Mind drift with colours at cool night,
Shadow of death magnetise day and night.
Who knows when at pubs or at clubs?
Summer could bring its hammer!
That hammer would break lock of slammer!
Never boast of thy glamour of death,
Thou can’t make us slave,
Who not know to read life?
Need to work until not to sweat to defuse!
Falling all thy emotion with drops of sweat,
Into the words of poets all shadows;
Of the giant would fade!
Let’s salute heroic shower,
Of the braves of medicine at higher,
Let’s isolate and part us to meet and be united;
Whether here or there, some day very near!

Pranjit Sarma

Light & shade

Every deportation of criticism creates each one of the sun
Bitter glance makes me cry, at the end of the day.
No sound does cover my blur;
When I used to find a glimpse of downhearted
Wishing to hide in unknown delight.

Refine concern not searching internal affection;
There the smell of love loses, in need of departure.
Sometimes can’t define
The separation of obligation and
emotion,
Somehow we forgot to compose
a letter by own hand;
We missed all footprints of childhood moonlight,
Today every heart recurring in the circle of pain
Only animates intense of
anguish word.

Pinki Paul

Flames

Dropping pearls of love
many eyes pass by
burning me inside
with silence
maturing me
with flames of spring.

I’m fine to be in you
not so weak
not so strong
for an outstanding comfort
grown in mossy hearts
by rich merchants of dreams.

I can taste flowery fragrance
I can face blessings and curses
of blooming thoughts
which cause storms outside
washing away crawling serpents.

To ink my love
I burn myself in spring’s flames
I turn myself into a refined sculptor
defining love and hatred
in the true romantic sculptures
carved on rocky footsteps of life.

Bipul Chandra Kalita

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