Quite Strange, Ain’t it? and Three Other Poems

by Avik Ghosh

Quite Strange, Ain’t it?

Everyone says that Valentine’s week comes with the love in the air,
Does the air really smell like love at that time?
Is it the time when the nature makes love in elation?
Is it when moon kiss the stars and the sun?
Why a particular week has been assigned to portray love?
Mere seven days are all that needed to love and to be loved?
Forever falls short to love someone’s heart out I suppose.
The moon and the stars make love to the Sun,
By sharing the same light from him.
They sleep together with the sun in the same sky bed,
Yet they have no grudge against each other.
Quite strange! Ain’t it?
So called human are more concerned with the body than soul,
Body is the perfect way to gauge sacredness as per them,
They talk about love, yet they don’t know what love exactly is,
Quite strange! Ain’t it?
Money could buy love these days,
Though it can’t buy happiness,
Still every one runs after money, which is a mere figure only,
And still they claim that they are truly in love.
Quite strange! Ain’t it?
Be like the moon and the stars, sharing the same man,
Yet they are strongly bounded in their respective orbits,
Sometimes they really laugh to see how mean human could be,
Who gauge love in dollars and terms Sex as love making,
Without even knowing the meaning of it.
They spit on us cause we believe in material possessions,
And for the sake of that we are encapsulating our greed in the name of love.
This is Human nature, which might have intelligence but no purity,
In the heart, in the mind and in the soul.
Yet they claim that they fall in love.
Quite strange! Ain’t it?



Far the land off you stayed,
Once upon a time,
The glory of love there was laid,
But the memoirs didn’t rhyme.

The monsoon rain in its bliss,
Made me wet in ecstatic pain,
Every drops implanted a daunting kiss,
Which is making me insane.

The barren heart with fruits in it,
The fruit that only love can taste,
Often the pain and joy did meet,
But get flunked with indecent haste.

Could you make a way for your eyes?
Towards the frame that frames you and me,
Though it would show up awefully nice,
And if you can, then close your eyes and see.


An Ode to Emma Roy

I dreamt of her in shades of grey
Mixed jet and pearl and slate and cream
Upon my canvass her to stay
My rainbow shade; my eye’s flair gleam

I dreamt of her in black and white
Mixed paint to stain false memory
And thought I painted all that’s bright
Not seeing my poor mimicry.

I dreamt she was all framed but free
In lands not green and blue alive
Imprisoned there alone was she
In my dark head I thought she would thrive.

I dreamt in sunsets of her grace
In reds and yellows that did fade
And did not catch upon her face
That gift of glory there was laid.

I dreamt in palettes overbright
But never finding the right tone
Violet, orange, pink weren’t right
They all became a monochrome.

I painted dreams and nightmares too
To try and find her somewhere there
To mirror that one and only who
That did my bleary eyes ensnare.

But when she walked across my way
And broke the image in my view
I saw that all my shades of grey
Were not the rainbow’s truest hues.

She lived more vivid that my dream
And glittered far against my clouds
And all I brushed to me did seem
Deluding ashen shadowed shrouds.

Reality is where I’ll go
To see and draw what I know
I will not try to bring down low
The hues above in the rainbow.


The Winter Haunts me Still

The winter rain brings ecstasy of love in a lonely day,
A mug of ale with a cigarette compiles a different affair,
This winter often haunts me and its bleary eyes ensnares,
the adolescent winter ironically will make me feel loved and gay.

The lifeless leaves got shaded from branches in this deadly season,
like my soul lies dead somewhere amidst the pale crowd,
could you hear me in other seasons crying for a shroud?
Or is it a game of the winter only to escape with a reason?

A strange winter brought love to my life; like a ray of hopelessness,
the chilling air with a love-like fragrance got into my nose,
may be the love of winter seemed to be like medicine in the state of overdose,
But little was it known to me it would bring dreadful scars on my face.

The winter had always been awesome since my childhood,
but the month December has had its claws on me,
I tried too hard to escape from being caged by thee,
but had I not been a loner then despite all the facade may be I could.

The cold winter haunts me still and the fear runs down my spine,
I try to get over all fooling emotions just to breath a little life,
but the memories of December unanimously hurts like un-hyperbolic knife.
But still when I am asked, how I am, I smirk that I am fine.
Hey winter! Could you please stop terrifying me and would you again be mine?

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