| My Last Will by Joydeep Bhattacharjee |
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The thawing wind of Nor'wester storm Unwinding petals of a window rose Come by now oh my heart Breaking the disgrace of earthly norm. Beyond the thousand standing crops Harvesting spring, seasoning smell Fragrance of millet among dizzy eyes The last dwelling beneath the skies. An abandoned hearth of no man's love There grows a little rose A small night light brightens up in vigour Before the warmth drops for last. I am near, close to you; She reminds me in ceaseless sigh Time is ripe and sing a song In the rhythm of springing sun. Scholars' ecstasy and agony of life Of Red Planet above the strife. Mars Rovers, spirit and joy Pathfinder for a global ploy. Yet beauty that evening sky reams Capsulated in 'scopic lens. Smile of a distant dream In the streak of thunderous light. Symphony of octaves in Mozart's tune Synchronised in thoughtless mind: Scribbling space of nomad's hut. A crucified heart and pastel gleam. I long for dew soaked loan, A frosting night of Robert Frost To hold you tight close to self Declare myself in presence of you. You mind not my long slumber Reckless words or staggering steps Bridal gown in some winter night; Donning you this year end. All gets ready, yet I faze Right choice whether you make Comfort that I long back missed For a comfort of stolen kiss. |
| © 2004 Joydeep Bhattacharjee |
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