Liquid Times


my significance was in clouds

In living relics of human footsteps

My significance

Embodied wholly in newly harvested crops

In the peeping endless meadows by the throughway sides, and

In playgrounds.

My significance was in


My significance was only

In blood bathed hecatombs.


Across the multitudinous ,

the sun comes out

Littering on walls

Of schools shut.

Littering on

earth scraping ploughs.

Littering on the runaway kid's

Blood draped school uniform.


Strange evening settles down.

Softening sun spreads over meadows

Alights in the backyard,

Piercing the parted leaves.

Only a lone crow sits

By the mourning house.

Scared to caw.

Lest ,the wailing mother wakes up

Who now sleeps,

fatigued in mourning

Over the son she just lost.


Anonymous said...

You should write more in Bengali. Suits you.