![]() To BeA Poem by Swagato Saha
In a cauldron of earthly noise, there I stood -
Naked dust 'gainst the metonymy of winds, Stooped low in kiss to the comatose wood, And the leagues diverged in pursuit of winds... What worldly waste of matter, there thought I - Lonely dust midst swooning atomies, And remained thence in defiant soliloquy, 'Gainst sorry leagues of weathered vanities. Such in crowds the bearer of heavy truth seeks, Promise of wanton passers-by; No sentient ear'd walk the blithering streets! So she searches the silent sky. Or the blue-eyed bard in theatres cold, Braves the monotony of laymen jeers; As traditions wilt to his musings bold, That rage forth ageing years! © 2022 Swagato Saha |
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Added on May 3, 2022 Last Updated on June 17, 2022 Author
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