Thought 3

Thought 3 long poem

Photo by rpscott123

The moon is declining on its late night journey
The lady you adored all through out the years
Is returning to daily fold with respectable form,
The October sky is cloudy and moist like your vision,
You have scant sleep in the night
So you know the motion of first train
The lady you started to love after marriage
Is pacing her faithful slumber with limited dreams
The stoic face of chicken shop owner
Although a handsome butcher
Appears like a great teacher drawing
Wafer thin line between life and death.
The hapless birds are waiting for final call
reducing in alarming number feeding our hunger.
The compartment you travel all the year
Gives a moment’s pleasure with all dull jokes and aberrations
The uncanny joys of these hapless daily goers
Allowing their precious births
Dumping over moribund trifles,
May they forever draw you to a chilled feeling
About lack of living with grave wants of beloved kissings.
The news paper man rending hectic calls
Before thrashing unreal news around your house corners
The black letters alike a graveyard of thy nation,
Epitaph was drawn much before the dawn.
The candles lighted by your better half on lighting fest
The effulgence of fire works woven by your little daughter
The blinking lights hanging over house head
The blazing attires of passing girls
Confined between narrow street,
Upper sky remained dark and grey.
The little son of the man of your close blood
Who came for help with crying allusion before your dad
Has broken the odds enough in faultless manner
Before finding the hopes clot.
The burst of joys flying over city rise on year end
Has burnt more easy wealth than the ragpickers earned in last year.
The high speed rail with tracking waves,
Looking mad,
Interest of rulers and riches are well served in freedoms best hour.
The costly food shared by your neighbour
The precious stone displayed by your near sister
In last marriage,
The gold mine washing its face on river water,
The lonely explorer gaming with countless diamonds
Have incurred a strong overcoming over your dusty book self,
Books not of your choice were disposed off.
The woman you liked most is
Making butter toast on servile fire
The friends lost forever, the amorous
Gazes over faces too clever
The final returning from a dreamlike place
The poignant neglect to your angelic face
Are falling like flakes in snow land
The lady sleeping beside you was icy in maidenhood,
Morning manouevers a toiling day
Pictures of fairies on house wall looking clay
Indifferent love dawns lengthy sleever and is stretching healthy breasts,
Kingfisher on daily flight over the pond
Catcalling your drudgery.

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Shuvo Chakraborty

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lecturer and advocate in university and incometax tribunal. an english poet and diehard follower of john keats
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