City Life 3 | JayM
Ivory Towers
Smoke and Mirrors, Veiled Intent
Glittering Glass Mask
human condition poems
Evenings | Krushna Chandra Mishra
These evenings are different.
To find a little darkness is difficult.
Lights all around are a disturbing thing.
To rest, to sleep, to relax and to enjoy
It looks too difficult for this flooding light.
Sometimes it looks cave life was free.
Emotions in raw forms were pure.
Honest exchanges defined relationships
To find friends or make enemies.
These days evenings don’t help
To hide self, friends,moods and interests.
Exposed in full, how embarrassed one stands
Unable to face admires and critics alike!
Reflections | JayM
Rippled reflections on a walk in the rain,
A solitary, floating, wandering cloud
Chasing shadows.
Drop kissed lashes
washed afresh,
A view new
Green, serene,
Petrichor wings lift the mind
Adrift
A soaring kite
A toy
An embodiment of joy.
Beauty expressed as truth,
Splashing wonder of a benign awakening
The gurgling brook
Within the whisper of the kite- string bond,
Quietude in togetherness found
Turning tempest into calm.
Then,
A mosaic of delight, the night
Waltzing under a silver light
Footsteps slide, alongside
In a silent glide.
And
The embrace of freedom in a thousand showers of tinkling wind-chime peals
An illumination of being,
The voyage of life
In one salutation of a trembling leaf in the rain.
Rippled reflections on a walk in the rain…
This Peculiar Strange World | Anupama Mishra
Oh, this weary world
this suffering world,
where I have lost all
the joys of my life,
I never asked for luxuries to come
but never expected the tempest to come,
Oh, this strange pessimistic world
the sceptic people live here,
only wishing to downscale their friends.
Oh, this selfish world
seemingly beautiful but
not really nice.
Oh, this ironic world,
which seems something else
but gives nothing,
thus ravishing the hopes
and desires of one another
the people feel joyous.
Oh, this nimble world
attracts but attacks at the back
maybe the people will call me unsatisfied,
but the truth is that
the world is made of the people
who are really stupefied.
The Birds | Guna Moran
Because they do not have a permanent home
The birds are always free from the worries of land and property
They make a nest at the time of hatching
The fledglings fly away as they grow wings
The nest too drop down as it rots
As they do not have a permanent home to say their own
They cannot be blinded by the longings for their kins
So they can fly away to reach the horizon with their partners
At their own will
Therefore it’s only them
Who can enjoy the pleasure of getting drenched in rain with with their partners
(Translated from Assamese by Bibekananda Choudhury)