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Nights after days, days after nights, must run
That's the stepping truth on a ladder's rung;
We go up, further up, that we may down
To the zero ground as a circus clown.
Repeating the same shows again and 'gain,
Since that's the snare of life- no loss, no gain;
Only environs change, climates do not,
They are ever and always meant for naught.
Still, we cannot help welcoming the New,
For amidst the Old they're the only few
Who bring diversions, digressions from toils,
That
...I met an old man on my rugged way,
About whom this is what do people say-
That he has gone estranged because of age,
Though ago he had had Time in his cage,
Carried across, lands, deserts, seas and bays.
Wrote he chronicles of cheers, tears, alike,
As if they were the two wheels of a bike,
The two musts for the latter's speed and hike.
Now he's old and weak, decayed in the cold
Of December when all wait to behold
The birth of a New Baby in this hope
That It'll herald a brighter, redder sun,
Th
..."....the fault was his.Shaded,soft-shaded lights by the bed-but he had been so careless as to leave on the bright electric chandelier in the centre of the ceiling.....She raised her eyelids-saw his glance at the chandelier,understood.Her eyes glittered.She murmured,`My beloved,don't worry-don't move....'
And she reached out her hand.Her hand grew larger,her arm grew longer and longer,it stretched out through the bed-curtains,across the long carpet,huge and oversh
...An`image'is a word- picture,i.e.a picture conceived in words.Since,especially these days,we are over-fed glaxo-babies in terms of experience-exposure, most often, we simply delete the not-so-important ones from our zone of linguistic attention so that the mind-caring experiences might get their nutritious due.Yet the overall report is not convincing.Because either our tongue underspells our mind in overthriftiness or overspells them in verbal prodigality,in a word,our guns miss the fire though n
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adhip ghosh (82)
