Skip to main content

The Lamp of Mars

 I never thought, I would be a poet.

Today again, coming to the end of middle youth, I have grabbed the pen.

So may be, the songs of day-end appear  in my pen.

So may be, in the aftrrnoon light of the world, I want to find myself.

This is the last time.

Poetry is my last refuge today.


My poetry may one day, be lost like mine.

Since life is mortal,

Before leaving the Earth's orbit and getting lost in the deep darkness,

I want to leave this belief that even if I die,

My poetry will be immortal.


Exactly, how long it will take to get back this blue sky, I don't know.

But if I see the sky changes colour,

Then, in the land of Red Sky, Red Hills and Red Soil, I'll find my new address.

After that, I will meet you on Mars.

O friend, Keep your lamp on Mars burning.

©Kdee14

©santanudatta_

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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_
Post a Comment
Read more

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.
Post a Comment
Read more

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.
1 comment
Read more