Write A Poem
My poems are bad.
They are from a little known
poet's pen-
You say always...
You pen a poem, rather,
O, dirty words' father!
Fill P.H's page,
and your ill desire will get tamed,
under the light of gentle verse.
You are making yourself
and your life worse,
I think you are a joker.
This P.H is not a circus,
and we are not the viewers,
of a cheap show which you
represent everyday.
I want to say,
go and try to write a poem,
and try to tame,
your demonic lust.
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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I Hear The Sound Of Time
Often at midnight I wake up,
I hear the sound of time.
It showers from eternity,
The Clock tells with its chime.
I find me in utter darkness,
As only waking man,
The cranky voice of a bird,
Reminds I have short span.
As a haunted person I brood,
Over the bygone days.
Is my life a story which ends,
Without its last pages?
From where we come, to where we go,
Unknown is that notion.
With the flow of time we will reach,
Perhaps a big Ocean.
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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Lying Under A Leafless Tree....
Lying under a leafless tree,
I hear the song of sorrow.
And wait for a better and
Happier good morrow!
I get the smell of the burning heart,
I feel getting away far, and far…
Where there is no, painful tune,
Will be chasing me ever!
You know, how blessed am I with,
My joyful home and hearth!
Still, I lack the world for all,
And a peaceful good earth….
The fallen leaves has made a wall,
Upon me, I can not count,
How many they are in number
I lie there on leaves' mount.
Who plays his finger upon my violin?
I do not even know….
The grief is shedding,
Tear on me, I'm weeping so!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Nature
Nature, I want to lie
on the soft wavy grass.
Under a shady tree, listening
to the song of the Thrush.
I'm tired of this weary way,
of the vices, the decaying,
time wearing me every day!
I can't get why we hurt
other with scorching words,
fight with race, religion!
The lambs have to go homeward.
Two days ago or after,
we will breathe our last.
Why, do we feel hatred,
and turn wrong, unjust?
Nature, my best teacher,
spread your hand and
take me in your serene,
gentle, soothing land.
Forgetting all the pains,
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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I Am Weeping So!
Lying under the violin tree,
I hear the song of sorrow.
And wait for a better and
Happier good morrow!
I get the smell of the burning heart,
I feel getting away far, and far…
Where there is no, painful tune,
Will be chasing me ever!
You know, how blessed am I with,
My joyful home and hearth!
Still, I lack the world for all,
And a peaceful good earth….
The leaves of the tree fall,
Upon me, I can not count,
How many they could be in all!
I'm lying there on leaves' mount.
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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O Sky, My Blue Sky
O sky, my blue sky-
O earth my green earth!
The new light has
Filled me with mirth!
Trulalala, trulala, la, la, lala, la....
O sky, my dear sky,
O bird take me in the high.
I want to sing the song of life,
Along with the cloud wanna fly.
Trulalala, trulala, la, la, lala, la....
Clouds will be soon my horse,
I'll ride on its back, just see.
Air will dance around playing the,
music of merriment beside me!
Trulalala, trulala, la, lala, la.....
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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Me And The Moon At Midnight
I awoke at midnight,
and saw the ray of moon,
was touching my forehead,
with its gentle light.
The window was open,
and I stood beside it.
The cool breeze caught
and held my hand,
mesmerized I reached
to the terrace.
The moon at midnight,
and I thus met
face to face....
The trees, the plants
and oh! the houses
around took silver hue.
The stillness, the
melted silver from
the night's one
source inundated the
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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Why Don't You..?
For long you don't step
In this world of imagination.
It seems you are vanished,
In the milky way of space.
Far from poem, love and me.
What makes you to say us,
Good bye? I find no reply!
There's the blank-sheet,
You may fill it with adjectives,
Before my name, may be they
Worse, but, come back to
Your true self, my intellectual,
Part, I'll care a little,
If I'm hurt, yet, I want
My wings to fly in the sky,
As a sea-gull over the,
The wide, wide sea...
Why don't you regain,
Faith on your godly-self,
Why don't you write,
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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A Dream-Seller
I'm a dream-seller,
I sell dream every day;
You all can buy it,
But you have not to pay.
The dream of fairy isle,
The dream of shining day;
You can buy it from me,
But you haven't to pay.
I dream of great nation
Who won't have envy's eyes;
Who will cry for others,
But won't wait for it's prize.
I have a sweet sweet dream,
I want to share with all;
Fighting for religion,
Will push us to sure fall.
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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Glass-ceiling
It's shivering on the edge
Of a razor, or on the verge
Of a sky-kissing cliff,
Hanging to fall inevitably...
And the glass-ceiling overhead
May break anytime;
We live thus with all
The urges of flesh and blood.
An invisible thread between
Life and death is only a link
To allow us to survive;
A controlling power
Drives us to dance,
With the rhythm of Time.
The flickering lights of the
Burning hopes let us live;
Under the glass-ceiling
A complete, fragile negation-
Still a firm belief works
To fight a mock fight to
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poem by Nilakshi Das
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