A moment in the setting sun

A moment in the setting sun...

Grandpa strolled across with kids,
youngest in a pram, brother and sister beside
fighting, getting bashed for their antics
crying, stopping, showing signs
of fake anger, forgetting and running along..

They fade out in the distance..
As Mr jogger went past
Sweating body, what a shape,
God's gift, well done man,
keeping it prim and proper!

In the distance the sun,
still bright, tired, its time
to set, the clouds smile
ask it to come back home
it was a hard day's work..

at the signal,
there are cars now,
all colors and shine,
black and blue, steel and white

Time ticks,
music strums into the ears,
the lyrics say, "what do i know love,
of sad evenings, it has lit up,
now that i took your name"..

Time ticks,
Get back to work,
get back to living..

What do i know love,
of sad evenings
or this moment in the setting sun?

~ in memory of Kurt Vonnegut ~

When the last living thing

has died on account of us,

how poetical it would be

if Earth could say,

in a voice floating up

perhaps

from the floor

of the Grand Canyon,

“It is done.”

People did not like it here.

My life from the rains to the snows and...

---

While writing these few lines
and walking amidst the snows
i suddenly have all the yearnings
for the rains...

Around me a pale sun
and stilled out trees
flakes pouring a pile

here and there around..

thats the winter country
living in, i realise how

i have forgotten my
own beloved rains...

and how in another world

they come bringing with them

joy and sound, green and peace,
playing with clouds and lightening in the sky..

none of that here...
in this snow country
no rains only flakes
no green only white...

Somebody once told me
that heaven is perhaps like this
he hadn't seen the rains
born in a winter country..

and left me wondering

how heaven n bliss, never being there

yet differ in imageries we know...

and keep knowing and changing thus..

while writing these lines
walking through the snows
looking at the trees

stilled by incessant flakes

travelling and yearning

for green and beloved rains...
born in a rain country
walking now in a snow country..

dying ...who knows which country? :)

~:)

Utshob er baluchore..

Kubja, esho prithibike khuchro bhabhe dekhi..
kauke bujhie bolar dorkaar nei, keno e-bhabhe dekha..
noukou teer e laageni. tikitghor ekhono ondhokaar..
shudhu amaar angul er angti r pathor joljol korche..
jeno banshberia r aalo.
tobe ki aamra kono utshob er baluchore pouche gechi?

Kubja, come, let us see the world in its smallest elements,

no need to explain to anybody, why we shall see like this..

the boat hasnt touched the shores yet, the ticket rooms still dark..

just the ring on my fingers are shining bright still..

as if the last flickers in a dark bamboo jungle..

Is it true, that we have finally reached the beaches of some festival then....

~patchy and rusty posting after a long time...a bengali poem by Utpol Kumar Basu at

http://www.boipara.com/bengali_literature_ebooks/bengali_poetry_ebook_kuri1st01.asp