Rumpa
Ray-Ghosh is a published poet, a content writer, a
blogger and a trained classical vocal singer. She is a post graduate and B.Ed.
from the University of Calcutta. She has worked as teacher in St. Thomas
School, as content-writer for ‘Pratham’ (NGO) and as Curriculum developer in
Vibgyor High School in Mumbai. Rumpa
publishes her writings on her blog ‘www.fragmentofimagination.com’
and has published the book “Musical Marvels of Self”. Her poems have been published in
international anthologies and magazines. She has participated in many poetry
events in India. She is a Sangeet Visharad from Bhatkhande
Sangit Vidyapith, Lucknow.
Entrapped
Digressed
from the path
Towards
my dwelling at the woods,
I
flew into a blind alley
Lured
by the mysterious darkness.
Captivated
in the lobby of labyrinth
Suffocated
in the air locked
Snare
around me
Entangled
in my own escapade
I
long to be released
From
the confinement of deception.
Soar
boundlessly
In
the whitest reality of sky
Diverted
from my quest for
The
concept of peace
An
entrapped bird I am,
Defenseless
I feel swooping between
The
treacherous tall blocks of concrete.
The
Undaunted Mountain
Draped
in the golden sunbeams in the mornings I stand tall.
I
turn host to innumerous green for months
Rejuvenated
with fragrant wild flowers embracing me.
I
quietly witness the sun
Shifting
too close to listen to my whispers,
Parched
I feel during this period
Awaiting
to get drenched by the gurgling fountains
Originating
from my peak.
Soon
the falling leaves leave me bear with the skeletal trees.
Covered
with dry leaves I appear pale peanut brown.
The
dew drops begin to freeze on the petals
While
cold wind surrounds with a blanket of snow enfolding me.
Man
ought not only aim to explore my peak
But
also perceive my calmness and determination
In
every storm I confront.
Fate
of Stories
In
the age long voyage of life
Some
stories sail smooth,
Lulled
by the rhythmic billows
Along
the direction of the drifting waves
They
turn into tales of prediction
Eventually
touch the shore to settle
In
the sands of contentment...
Few
stories are hit by the tumultuous storm
Hauled
windward, losing the course of flow.
Inconsistently
they skim on the face of ocean
Intensely
crave to reach the destination
Doomed
to drown in the deluged ripples.
In
the time to come, such stories
Remain
unsettled, incomplete and untold...
Voices Within-2020 :: Setu, February 2020
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