My English Poems
Kamal Bordoloi
(written in between 01.07.2007 to 13.09.2010)
Books and Booking
Tales of those man The victims of holy-flame While fuelling the cause of Freedom In the nights of shackles Are not now found In the Book of Castle. Forgotten In the din Like the howling dogs Of garbage bin.
But the golden leaches Can creep Into the new version Of the Book Doning the garb of Famed patriots Only to suck blood Rights at the pump!
However, a book is there Its pages are chests Of tiny creatures Knitted together.
Like the raft of banana tree On a flooded river And songs reverberate Thereform Off and on For the sacrifices Of known unknown With pride and tears In fairs and festivals.
------- Duliajan 16.07.2007
Luxury
Thechildhood was behind A year or two And I sailed my youth Between the bastions Of reasons Of reason and emotion. A strange dream Then, pervaded me Demanded My life-security And, a nod it got from me To shape it To reality.
The mission was on With sage's devotion Sun and sail Facts and facets True and false Were stacked ready To boost my creativity.
But, bitten by time At my prime I am now invalid Life is too horrifie Living on pity And my destiny The mission In a coffin Lying Besides me !
Now, I enjoy the luxury Of pondering About the dream Its length Logics And beauty While waiting for My own doom In the silent gloom.
------- Duliajan 26.07.2007 Going
In my childhood I begged my grand-maa For a glittering golden ladder To pluck from sky The sparkling stars For few games of 'Ghila'.
But, the indulging eyes are frozen Stars become dim-dots of heaven As plaintain-rafts are afloat On our playing court !
The ghilas are vanishing Vision is a tall tower And on my zero-base Foundation laid for greatness.
Going is awesome Balance-sheet jeers at new moon Stars are ticketless travellers And the terrible passes Sleepless nights.
In the short recess Sometimes I meet dreams Face to face. They are in perfect health A solace indeed.
-------- Duliajan 24.08.2007
On the First Day Of New Year
On the first day of New Year With happiness everywhere And look back At the antique - Caves !
Our search For happiness so far With guns of Possesion and power Is fruitless.
Let wisdom be the leader And the culture ....... Sharing ourselves With others In the search For happiness In the New Year !
-------- Duliajan 03.09.2007
Courage
The man took leave Gracefully Consoled The grieving ones And Standing On the scaffold Sung With a tonal voice "God, let me cross !" Courage, was it ?
He bestowed love Generated forgiveness For them Who nailed him Hung him From a Cross For They were sinners Not sins. The man A perfect being Suffered The cruelest punishment For his innocence And died With unbent faith. Courage, was it ?
An eccentric Met a lonely lady On a village road One day. She was poor And pregnant. The shameless one Asked her "How do you dare To be a mother?" She replied with anger "Ask instead Sarat, My brother Who knows All the tricks His mother played with Courage, You know Is the need of hour To live and To let live others"
The future Is chained to the peg Sentries are ruthless. Still they search For a transition In a dark-patch For that They can nestle The flying deaths In the chests. Courage In their hearts Is a river in spate Fuming And finding ways. ------- Duliajan 03.03.2006 Note : Sarat - Sarat Ch Singha, past Chief Minister of Assam
When the mist falls
Dear Grand father, How are you ? We are fine.
Here, Mid-December In full glory. Nights are chilly Mornings misty Days are scented With treaded paddy, Evening is the time For telling stories. Children gather 'Round the fire Burning at corner To listen from Their grand-father.
I tell them The same stories With the same fervour As might also be told By your grand-father !
The God was in Deep slumber On the body Of a living snake Floating delicately On a foaming sea ?
After that ?
God had awakened. The bad time Was over, The hopes in peril Had bloomed again Creations had commenced Over the platform Of lotus-petals !
My grand-children Are amazed. They think that I am an old river Very long, On its two banks, Stories creep up Endlessly always.
The saplings planted by you Are now old. They can not bear fruits !
Also now The petals of flowers Are stained Dew-drops are heavier Stars are poler ! Dirts, dirts everywhere. No cleaner No water ! Panics fill the air.
Grand-father, Will the same God Shall come same way Drifting again To wash everything Clean Drowning in sea !
We might be then be Buried under sea. Our civilization Might be vanished Without leaving traces Even for history !
Terrible, is not it !
I shall wait for you, Grand-father Beneath the banyan tree. Please do come We shall talk.
O', the harvest is good. Boys are good fighters Fought with elephants ! Namdang bridge, Is still strong, Oil-tankers pass over it.
No more for today. Reply soon. With regards, Yours grand-child Manai.
------- Guwahati 14.09.2010
Immortal
I told my son "Live if need be" He went out To die for a need. I said To his mother While serving me The morning tea "We live for love" She radiated a smile : "We live Through others On the count of Our sacrifice". We started immediately The march for victory Our death On the path of love. No regret If we die en-route Unnoticed.
------- Guwahati 28.01.2010
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Troubled vow
I submit to an agony Willfully Of holding an arm up Till I could hammer A shape of success Out of pieces Of failures !
With the resolve austere, I sharpen my senses With the power Of diligence To cut the barriers For reaching The goal of desire.
But the formless feeler Inside me Aspires to be Windy free, Forsaking the armour Of my resolve so dear And brings in The thorny distraction Of rosy glee To the cobbled path Of my endeavour.
The hold up arm Tends To move motion of Response To the love-torn Butter-flies How long could I Subdue them With reason And restraint ? Tired I am, Give me strength !
------- 24.07.2007 Sparrow
The mid-day break of harsh labour Was meagre for food and leisure A sparrow sought then to disturb By flying over my shoulder To and fro From door to window.
In the dreamland of night Facts and fiction never fight And the sparrow like a girl in love Broke my shell of slumber there too With whishper and sigh.
I forced her out of my shack For little peace of sleep But valiant she was, came back With more rounds over my head !
The sky is now all blue Gone are the lighting slashes On the bleeding clouds without clue The glamour of night, the flowers Shower love for us to share.
Her flights was of love for me During the days of my pennury Now, I propose the sparrow For flying together In space, broad and broader With mother earth below !
-------- Duliajan 01.08.2007 Night-break
At the bridge end, I stop a while To watch the grand Arrival of darkness Like a cavalry On black horses.
There is a trace of brightness At a far-flung distance A jungle fire A sky-lamp Or, may be A lighted up marsh.
The sky above, dressed up Like a bride With ornaments of stars Sheds tears Of dew-drops For the impending depart.
Trees here and there Veiled with gloom Lament the failures Of giving everything Fresh and green For the traps setup By the self-destructing beings.
-------- Duliajan 28.08.2007
The citizen
Dates are new then And a mercy-petitioner He was For the evil deeds He had not done. Fire of protest Never lit-up Only pity for pet Was in offering For this man The citizen !
He found that - The earth revolves Round the sun And dared to walk The halls of Hell and fame With pause and pain But failed to garner Peace For he was selfish And the sufferings Never ceased For the man The citizen !
He is now a Path-finder Mystery for him A veil That disappears like fog With sunrays. The desert of hunger Cannot desist him To give life To his dream Of making the planet Green A living paradise For the toiling man The citizen.
-------- Guwahati 17.02.2009
Lovers
Misfortune ! You love me Like the mountain-avalanche That rushes and shears itself To meet the valley I love you too Life is incomplete Without you !
You are queen-beauty Of dream-land Having no boundary O' Imagination My sweet-heart You are the nectar Of date-palm That dots the desert.
O serenity ! You are solemn Like full moon Radiate glory Like lotus at noon And for love everywhere You are my partner We proceed together.
-------- Duliajan 04.04.2009
Story of a Story-Teller
Our childhood memories Are decked with Kings and queens Of uncle Jali's stories. He was a garden-worker And our darling story-teller. But, working and telling Together, Might not concur However, with our father And his aunning eyes Looked at our despair We never gave up Made a way to compromise A story for a betel nut. Then, narration flowed freely "..... The queen suddenly, Grief stricken King Renounced everything Went to forest As a hermit." He also went home Sweet home with a leaky roof Daily rupees two Could not make rain-proof. Another day saw Slight change of venue. The king was however Santanu ".... He felt very lonely In the silence of night Desired for a company At his bed side But his son Bhisma ......" Kalpa His son's name A would be tailor And me ? A scholar I would be A ganji at Bihu-time All he needed then Stories would follow Of course, for my children ! Next time, a tragedy "The good king was Hari But, luck played foul Shattered his dreams Made him a pauper Dead-body washer !" Uncle Jali Stopped telling stories At the age of fifty.
------- Duliajan 14.05.2009 Note : Uncle Jali died at the age of 64.
The House
The house is of three rooms Linear Like a school.
I stay alone.
Some sparrows Chatter overhead Non-stop Disregarding My protests.
The dog Loves the house Too much And barks At everybody But, favours me For being Its inmate !
Neighbour Five year Gauri Opts for Second storey And promises Me some space.
At ground If my conduct Remains satisfactory !
The house Shelters dreams For then and me. Its roof begs sky To lend some stars For its inmates To work with.
------- Guwahati 13.09.2010
The father and the son
I am after him ! For this, Trimmed the dream Of the friend shuffling Under his wing In the night of interrogations Dose and doses of venom.
Still no information ..........
"Where is he ?" I grabbed her hair, Not a word --- her answer And I peeled off The petals Of a blooming flower ! Was it me ? So giant a killer .
Yet I must hold on For duty and obligation To find him clear Within the range of my SLR.
But I am the father.
The proud father, I am For He tears The shackle of fear Unlike me To move on For a cause of other.
My respect, my son, And my wish Be stronger That I am. ------- Duliajan April, 1991
Conquerer of death
I told my son, "Live for a need" And he died To bleed For a need.
She was sad And silent For The death of her son. I tried To console her : "We live for others". She also went away To die for them For the sake of love And to live For ever.
Now, the time has arrived And I am fully coiled. The final offensive begins Against all the enemies. I fight For the last breath To die only To conquer death.
------- Duliajan 24.02.1991
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