vidyut chakraborty

I search the network,
Find ‘retirements’ in a stereo type pattern.
My daughter exclaimed “Retirement “!
She sent a photo of a wrinkle-faced woman
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People never own people
Yet they boasts for ‘MINE’
Throughout the life people get screwed
Happiness and Peace ever shine.
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Love is a guilt once it is expressed
It is divine when suppressed
It is a hell if got tortured
Love is heaven if it is fostered.
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Poet confided: Universe has been versed
in the concept of a Absolute Man
Within whom potential of each man is converged.
To that extent the entity of Universe is a humane truth
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Sorry Aruna,
pity on your debris – this materialistic world.
They do not allow you to die, neither succeeds to survive.
They kept you in vegetative state.
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Somewhere sometime someone smiles
may be it flashes some absence of mind
The onlooker gazes and implants awhile
a feeling of look - love starts to grind
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I write poetry
am I a poet?
some words are bunched
no feelings outburst
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A big bang
makes a birth of a gene
An unknown travel
writes a history,
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UNION

An untoward one is that becomes conspicuous in day light
but the taboo halts to unmask it.
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Her eyes fall on the image not on the man
She is charmed and opens her breasts.
No shy no swing for that her Self likes him
and she accepts him world's ‘the best'!
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To dream someone you love is a hidden treasure of life-
yes it is.
Your Love vanishes into blue and how do you feel this reality?
Destiny.
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They told us to forgive everyone
They told us to love all around
Get free from the inner evils:
We bow to Them as They are great
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A whirlwind not a twister,
It is my love march past.
I cannot but wonder!
Does she come back?
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Deep from the core of Heart
every one sings Peace.
Your soul sings Love.
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A big circular path you try to cross
In its every nook and corner, you got a blow.
But you pretentious scholars,
do you know at what point you have lost the touchstone!
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From the den of quilt, the birds chatter
The sun can rise differently.
From the cocoon came out the butterflies
To usher someone in this mid February.
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It crawls inside, once you refuse me.
I resist myself to give you a blow.
Countless protests knock my brain.
I feel helpless to stop its flow.
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That Cuckoo is cooing in my ears,
Swinging fragrance of those white floral is touching.
Once upon a time I loved you.
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Thousands of light years past
the earth remained apart from the stars.
secluded, lone, alienated,
She worked, she acted, and she performed
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Who bears it? Or begets?
May someone makes it or creates.
But it is built up and it grows.
A grown up thing has its life.
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