Hands and Their Committed Mistakes
Hands and their committed mistakes
bear unknowingly a mirror
reflecting an image –
dark or luminous,
drawn by their mesmerizing power
on the canvas of the watchful eyes.
An ugly hand and its uglier image
assume the ugliest definition
of its micro mistake as macro one
from the witnessing eyes
along with a bonus of scolding
from the babbling tongue
before these are sent back to restart.
A handsome hand and its beautiful mistake
ensnare the judging eyes
reflecting its luminous image
and win an affectionate definition
of its horrible mistake
as an innocuous mistake-
a simple slip of hand
though it pours hemlock into nectar.
bear unknowingly a mirror
reflecting an image –
dark or luminous,
drawn by their mesmerizing power
on the canvas of the watchful eyes.
An ugly hand and its uglier image
assume the ugliest definition
of its micro mistake as macro one
from the witnessing eyes
along with a bonus of scolding
from the babbling tongue
before these are sent back to restart.
A handsome hand and its beautiful mistake
ensnare the judging eyes
reflecting its luminous image
and win an affectionate definition
of its horrible mistake
as an innocuous mistake-
a simple slip of hand
though it pours hemlock into nectar.
The Law Of Compulsion
Standing of hair up-
an uprising form of hair style,
contemporary to the modern thoughts
and a proof too
to the law of compulsion
expressing one’s inability
to make neither head nor tail of the next
in its abundance or scarcity;
representing a shock
compelling a body to sit down
on the heap of unanswered queries
without putting two and two together
except frightening the hairs to stand up;
and thus verifying the law
exhibiting the inverse relationship
between a compelled body and its hairs
living in this plutonium age
allowing no tongue to rundown
the standing fate of hairs-
accepted and nurtured in the name of style
hiding stylishly the side effect
of diplomatic modernity and its dogmatic compulsion.
an uprising form of hair style,
contemporary to the modern thoughts
and a proof too
to the law of compulsion
expressing one’s inability
to make neither head nor tail of the next
in its abundance or scarcity;
representing a shock
compelling a body to sit down
on the heap of unanswered queries
without putting two and two together
except frightening the hairs to stand up;
and thus verifying the law
exhibiting the inverse relationship
between a compelled body and its hairs
living in this plutonium age
allowing no tongue to rundown
the standing fate of hairs-
accepted and nurtured in the name of style
hiding stylishly the side effect
of diplomatic modernity and its dogmatic compulsion.
A Red-Letter Day
Time and again
extinguishing the sparking questions
left by me behind my every careless steps,
she is careful to save the face of a paradise
built in her heart for my heart
and wakeful to guard the blossoms-
bloomed all around in all colors.
Is she an angel or a true lover
or both of these?
A big question to me to find out the answer
from her staying hand and glove with me,
hand in hand in every walk or race of my life,
giving open ear to my babbling-
hard and fast or brand new
in cold blood
blooming a sweet flower on her lips,
making the dust in her dreamy eyes
thrown by my imp
non-sticky and non-irritating to her dream-
projecting an image of our intense intimacy,
ensnaring the escaping clouds
to float only in her sky
for raining cats and dogs
on me, the God and the Devil
making all cool and enchanted
to fight in combination against the dark sun-rise
which may bring about a rainy day one day
in her collocated married life-
wedding with me on a day ten years back
might be a red-letter day of my blessed life .
extinguishing the sparking questions
left by me behind my every careless steps,
she is careful to save the face of a paradise
built in her heart for my heart
and wakeful to guard the blossoms-
bloomed all around in all colors.
Is she an angel or a true lover
or both of these?
A big question to me to find out the answer
from her staying hand and glove with me,
hand in hand in every walk or race of my life,
giving open ear to my babbling-
hard and fast or brand new
in cold blood
blooming a sweet flower on her lips,
making the dust in her dreamy eyes
thrown by my imp
non-sticky and non-irritating to her dream-
projecting an image of our intense intimacy,
ensnaring the escaping clouds
to float only in her sky
for raining cats and dogs
on me, the God and the Devil
making all cool and enchanted
to fight in combination against the dark sun-rise
which may bring about a rainy day one day
in her collocated married life-
wedding with me on a day ten years back
might be a red-letter day of my blessed life .
Pijush Kanti Deb is a new Indian poet with more than 225 published or accepted poems and haiku in more than 68 nos of national and international magazines and journals, [print and online] like Down in the dirt, Tajmahal Review, Pennine Ink, Hollow Publishing, Creativica Magazine, Muse India, Teeth Dream Magazine, Hermes Poetry Journal, Madusa’s Kitchen, Grey Borders, Dead Snakes, Dagda Publishing and so on. His best achievement so far is the publication of his first poetry collection,’’Beneath The Shadow Of A White Pigeon’’published by Hollow Publishing is available on AMAZON visiting the link,
http://www.amazon.com/Beneath-
OR, http://www.barnesandnoble.com/
OR, http://www.barnesandnoble.com/
quite meaningful pieces....
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