Poetry from Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra

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Today we have three soul searching poems from Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra.

Road to Revolution

I was on the road to revolution; when I met-
The childless mother beating her chest in sorrow, the widow shredding tears of solitude,
The motherless child crying for company, the father who had lost his son…

For the road to revolution is filled with people like them.
I was on the road to revolution; when I met-
The poor, the diseased, the wretched, all in a serpentine queue;

Everybody doing their bit, pushing forward-resisting…
The road to revolution-a road of perdition for those walking on it,
Smoke, bullets and bombs find place with burnt pages of poems;

Yet why do young boys and girls tread on such roads? The answer is yet to come…
An old man came up to me, “Why, you look just like my boy,
May god bless his soul!!” His last words hit me hard;

Why remain a spectator? Why not join the queue…
I was on the same road now- fighting, resisting, and again fighting for change!
I saw scores of people joining the fight, but we’re still apprehensive.

The Lighthouse

The sail caught the wind; as did the hull catch the tide,
Piercing the darkness, shimmered the feeble light,
A constant companion in the dark…
Wooing ships and sailors alike,
The lighthouse, keeping its forlorn promise;
Providing a sweet haven of hope, in the entrails of the devastating abyss…

Closer to the shore, the hope gets stronger,
Irrefutable to die, the sailor thinks, “A little longer…”
The scales of the dead fish, brought to immediate life,
Their shining eyes reminiscing the long lost strife…
The lighthouse, keeping its forlorn promise;
Providing a sweet haven of hope, in the entrails of the devastating abyss…

Sunshine
She smiled like the sun, warm and bright-
Ushering her brightness all around her; like the winter sun-light…
Many would give their hearts for her, for she was beautiful,
But she pretty, too pretty in fact to fall for them-
Someone misinterpreted her to be egoistic;
Made her the cause for him being pessimistic…
Spewed acid all over her face,
Beauty that once was, now lay all in waste;
A few months in the white room could not repair her beauty lest her resilience …
She hated herself, could take no more,
Beautiful thoughts metamorphosing into gore,
The following morn’ people found her dead, with body intact but her face cut;
Her warm smile forever shut.
She smiled like the sun, warm and bright-
Ushering her brightness all around her; like an ever spreading light…

©Copyright Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra

Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra, is currently pursuing his graduation from Haldia Institute of Technology in Electronics and Communication Engg. Writing is his passion generally short stories, novellas, poems and scripts. While we all travel through the tapestry of time, he just takes a look at his surroundings and writes his heart out!

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