Gopal Lahiri: Poetry (Life, Cognition and Creativity)

Gopal Lahiri
The world insists me to return, to sing a song
every relic of memory goes along the red path.
It’s my turn to be near the window
only now I know that someone is yet to arrive,
and silence is everywhere inside of walls
lightly touching the string of joy,
how red it looks-Rangan flowers in the morning breeze
weave unknown songs, linger long in the memory,
outside the wind crosses borders of stormy nights
wet footprints slip out from the unfinished dream,
the sunbird is in search of nectar
clouds assemble to greet the antelopes,
may there be a river beneath my words
all I need is mother’s warmth inside.
There are so many unwritten poems, unspoken love.
The garden outside the window glistens in sunlight
wafting in the fragrances of the pale blue flowers
all the shades of green acquire a new hue
new thoughts rest on the wings of blue butterflies,
Shadows come to say a halo, dreams chasing
purples and yellows of the low branches,
the trees drop the leaves, immerse them in the
gentle flow of the meandering river.
And when it rains, the wet grass smell memories,
mellow sunbeam imparting bliss on some far-off bank
silence spilling all around, the sky holds still
the pureness of blue, the softness of light.
A new day is born, now wants to shine and rise,
touching the temple crest, the words spreading peace.
Tidal Inlet
The twilight floats in the ripples of
Unknown promises, unspoken dreams.
So softly, the evening builds a sky
frame by frame,
A bird takes a glide outside in
unfurnished light!
Failing to endure these tests,
the horizon seems to be laid on the blue seawater.
Flutter among palm trees, birds stroke birds
emanating tiny cries.
Evening breeze is humming, gently fallen to dreams 
there lurks optimism and courage.
Fading light pulls open the snail’s skin,
come to terms with shades.
Walk away from this moment 
Night will rise now from those breathless flowering.
Gentle Touch
Let the parting of the night be sweet.
murmurs still hanging on the branches
Let love melt into beautiful memories.
clouds still unsteady; say last words in silence,
voice in my head resonates,
water birds end their flight in the folding of the wings
There is nothing in life than flowers in bloom
greying hair laments.
Fading slowly the waltzing stars 
the rising sun in search of pleasing shades of colour.
There is drama all around
and you want to map out something 
to save our planet.
As you know the nature hurting us back if ignored.
Let the final touch of your hands be gentle.
Floating diyas are the distant memories.
Ghats are drawn in fairy decorations,
light trembles, rain comes down in drops,
devotees are in deep water, come out now
after washing wound and sin.
Old women move in circles of fire
seeking truth,
there are rain clouds in their bleary eyes
a tiny stream finds a peaceful home here.
I count the broken stars in the sky
every crevice in my palms disappears
in unmarked notepads.
Flying high the night birds hold up the lamp
to light me on my way.

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