Invitation (Santanu Dutta), Bagnan, 12.03.2011

The invitation of night was open

on my bed, near head.

Until the remnant of wavy motion

of the airborne music had disappeared,

I could not understand where from

a gush of wind came, and gave away

my mind, a swing.

I looked up to the sky and noticed,

a cluster of blue stars, seemed to be

laughing, reason less.

I heard the song of my heart into

the rustle of forest, though, I failed

to follow that note.

Comments

Mummy

In that very afternoon, Suddenly came running the Monsoon. Her gaze was so filled with Tears, Seeing, it seemed The wet wind would become today The slaughter house of My Heart. I saw you standing at the balcony, Firm though motionless. I feel, I crawl on the Pyramid like a lizard. As if, I'm like one, The living Mummy of civilization. The song of Rain comes from The distant sky Who tied happiness in it? The faded Maskd of Me shouted And said, You are that face. Let A few feelings get wet. Let's go to a dead civilization To pick up Some dry, fallen leaves. Today I will decorate your neck. The faded Masks shouted again, Don't get wet, you will be sick. Laughing aloud, I said, I've Already died. In the course of time, there it floats It may be my Mask,, It may be my dead face. ©Kdee14 ©santanudatta_

Then (Shantanu Dutta)Bagnan, 20.07.20

Then ( Bagnan, 20.07.20) Shantanu Dutta If you say, no more talking today, No more talking. I have gone lost, when I reach in the distant sky. Think me, I'm a cosmic pain. Suddenly I woke up to you, talking about the night, once again. I've seen a nameless civilization into your eyes. I don't know how many light years have passed. If you think, life here is acting. Becom an indestructible bird, having swayed, fly away into rain. A few golden afternoons are the rate of life. As a gift, it falls on your neck. A few hints were your messenger. A few songs fly like butterfly. If you don't want a house, so be it. When the storm stops in this infinte darkness, I will go back in love, I will accept defeat. Let the wings of desire die, on the river bank.

Your Man

If you see the flight of geese in the distant sky. If the circular moon seems to be creeping like snails. If you feel into the diffusive light of bridal noon, that someone whispers in the way to your heart, vein and cell. You may be rest assured that the whisperer is a Man of your own acquaintance. He is not only a Poet. If on a certain day, the song of a long past raises some questions into your mind. If one falling afternoon becomes very meaningful. If a teardrop dithers at one corner of your eye. Removing the window curtain of your bed room, look out so far as you can, Try to search out His replica into the cluster of clouds. You will find Him there certainly. Since, he is your Man. Since, he is not only a Friend. Since, he is not only a Poet.

Santanu's Poem

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