GOPAL LAHIRI
SLAUGHTER
Paper and ribbon memory flush
The foggy eyes,
The wavering pulse,
The pain beneath the backbone.
Breaking, pushing
Crumbling
Intense combat with the enemies
Darkness seen the darkness.
Blood stained dust
Mother inhales,
Smell the dead flowers
The tears slide down the eyes
Another child slaughtered
And hidden under the bruised palm
Every little finger
Every tiny moment gone.
Someone cries
Let’s get out of here
The sky swathing in red clouds
Turning off.
A need to escape
From everything around
God even don’t know about
The second hell.
SPRING TIME
In my village, the spring has arrived
Time to grow, heal inside,
Our voices become soften.
The branches light up beauty.
Sparks begin to fly in silence,
Landscape sings in the serene life.
Humming in the morning, the tiny
Bird tweets and emptying the sadness,
The sky hurls pellets of white clouds.
Of the spiral trees knitting the warmness,
Lie down, listen to the wind
Sunlight falling in stripes in slow motion.
Fading slowly the jarring note of the
Misery and mess, riding on the new waves
Waiting to reach the needy soul.
MY CITY
The train arrived late
It's still atmospheric
The city I belong.
On the road side cafe people enjoy
The sun hitting the canal water
Lights in the shape of silver bands
play nicely on the glass window.
Going on the bicycles
The girls converse in whispers,
Stressing about equal pay.
Clouds sail, sometimes halt
To strike in exchange for rain
for your destined travel,
something of their own making.
Smokes rising up in the sky
They have a darker side
The trees counting moments-
Ugly inferno.
A bird is tossed up unknowingly
After bath in frigid water
Earthly reminder,
Harsh realities are not far away.
GOPAL LAHIRI
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