Sankha Sen (Voices Within)

Sankha Sen, born in India, did his schooling and Electrical Engineering in Kolkata, India. He worked in many countries and after completing Masters in Germany settled there as well. This OCI poet has started writing since childhood as a hobby. He has also inherited his musical talents from his father. He too is a father of two lovely kids. Looking at his multi-talents, his caring mother and supportive wife inspired him into Literature. He has already published his collection of English and Bengali poems called “Sonkhomonjori”.


Circadian Christmas
May it be this Christmas when I learn to know me, O Lord....
Ages gone, but this season, I feel you every year....
The trees, the light, the bestowing jingling bells..
reminds me of the stars, the kings and the first cry of yours....

In a Silent night you came, to bring gentleness in our lives...
But O lord the pains which you took on for us has'nt left us alone...
Humans are still crusified strangely in the name of Humanity....
Unfair and fair two sides of a coin, should it be?

Alas O Lord, the World rolls over where pleasures lie...
The Art of Giving may still bring in Joy...
Where hearts unite with a Kiss of Trust....
Let Christmas jingle the bells of Humanity....

O Father, your children in need, should smile indeed...
Let it snow, let it cover the heat of heniousness...
May us hold hands and rejoice Goodness and Godliness...
Rythms of Circadian Christmas, may harmonise the carols of our lives...

Let us not live like an empty floating leaf...
But saving lives of mere ants and insects, if be it....
May us O Lord, not just live only for us but to live amongst us....
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Hope, may light across a million hearts...



Generation genre
Be me, when I know not the pain of seclusion...
Ignorant world widens the generation gap of heartbreaking ties....
Tired skin desires to keep up to the pace of youth...
No you don't belong to us....mind and age differ in their axes of time....

Grey hairs, loosened chin, weakening sight bear the torch of old age
Why does a son forget, nothing flows upside down....
Be it rain, cloud, mist or snow..it's all water my dear...sustaining the life of tender emotions...
The cycle of life and birth has no age....

We are mere the hands of the clock of destiny....
Some runs fast, some slow...some stops...some never starts....
Respect and integrate every age cause life is a bommerang...
This ignorance might hit hard back to us....

Befriend my dear every age, while the mind that speaks not age
Show and pomp are all temporary to the conscious of truth...
Let's not categorise the Generation genre of longing souls....
Dad and son, Mom and daughter, let share the equal space in our hearts....



Rhetorical Artist
Can you see the light of righteousness...
Mourning through the hearts of an artist...
Do I beautify the globe, yet forgotten in the folklore...
Do you feel me in your visions...

I am always there for you to exploit
It's been ages, timeless Arts caught the nerves of your right brain...
Sweats yielding into tears....
It's an Work of Art..
O Lord...let it be there...let the lights glow...
But my poor desire dies somewhere in grave of inrecognition
As monuments stood on the carcasses of hope...
Who did really pay the price...society, family or dearth of scope...
Unfortunate souls left their artistic besom...dried immortal on the canvass of heed...

Work and effort two sides of a coin...treat them fair..for all its the same world...
Benevolent ethics let vibrate our acumen to end the autarchy of abuse...
Cause Art and Artists are the mothers of humanity...
Yet the stampede of rat race slaying softly our souls...


Let us join hands in preserving the gift of God...
Recognise Artists and stop exploiting them...
Because they bear the torch of humanity meant for generations to come...
Let us live in our children giving an artistic justice to our souls...


Voices Within-2020 :: Setu, February 2020

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