VERSETILE

My Motherland

Oh how beautiful the landscapes,
The hidden and unexplored caves,
Beautiful waterfalls cascades,
The blessed and wonderful place.
Meandering rivers flow swiftly,
Rivulets, streams flowing slowly,
Hills are covered with greenery,
I wonder and enjoy the beauty.
The sky is beautiful and clear,
The singing of birds I can hear,
Sometimes hear the roaring thunder,
The pleasant weather round the year.
Land is blessed and very fertile,
Forests are extremely fragile,
The animals live in the wild,
It is wonderful and worthwhile.
The starry nights are exiting,
Slow and cold breeze always blowing,
Beautiful birds always chirping,
Enjoy their singing till the evening.
The vast plains and vast meadows,
Variety of herbs and plants grows,
The crystal clear water flows,
Beautiful hillocks
High and lows.
Beauty of nature helps me stand,
It strengthens and inspire my mind,
How beautiful my motherland,
I always love my motherland.

Torich R Marak

Covideath: Rising
above taboo

This brutal period of time
Being perhaps
Delightfully vicious
To cleek us with iron grips
Those can dig taboo, or burn it
Becomes patriot; to overshadow
Messy overwrought darkness
In silences, all are frightened
By deadly cessation
Going mysterious and dark
Wrapped up white
Men are as if to defenestrate will of God
Deity Mrityu may harm,
No crematorium likely
Being pleaded on our space
For fire and grave, burn or buried
Somewhere a covideath
Sky would attend funeral
People living, want more of universe
Air water fire and space-large
As if pure death has gone,
No hymn to chant
Fearful cities and towns
Unlike to mourn
Believing principle of breath
Fire and earth
How are being feeble?
Covideath: Aren’t a holy death?

Pranjit Sarma

Birds in the air

Take me to the place where,
the weather is fine all around.
Where wind blows across the hills and valleys,
clouds change its hue from dawn to dusk.
The drooping of the branches,
the ripening of the fruits.
Bees and butterflies sing and dance,
the fragrance of the lilies and roses abound.
The idyllic beetle rolls the dung uphill,
the cricket cries loud and sharp.
Fly me like birds in the air, and
take me to the place where,
the weather is fine all around.

Josojit Dey

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