Of my love,
Reddish and appleyish,
Fair, fine and fresh.
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A desperate and devastated lover was I,
Seeing my devastationAnd in utter despair, dejection and despendence,Singing the songs of broken,Which I suffered, but could not say it,Just went on bearing the pains of love.The heart broke it like the glass piecesAnd while collecting, pricked itAnd it bled too,The heart used to beat abnormallyAnd it used to acheBut there was none to dress…
G.B.Shaw as a great talker,
A rebel and a heretic,A propagandist and a controversialist,A dramatist of ideas so monotonousWithout any love for romance in heart,A thesis-giver, an anti-thesis-giver.
The same emotion and feeling is in her too
And the difference is in itThat I put down them on paperAnd she puts them not.
I wanted to pause by the timber trees
The long-long,Tall-tall timber treesAnd the ways mesmerizingGoing to,Bifurcating toTaldangra, Simlapal,Bikrampur to Homegarh,Garhbeta,Raskundu MoreUnder Medinipur district.The lonely roads,Bituminous roadsWithout men and hutmentsLeading to where,A world with men,A world without men,How to feel it?
Miss Rangeeli,
WhereWhere do you liveYouRangeeli,Miss Colourful?‘Into the dreams, ‘Said she smilingly,‘Your sweet dreams.’
Dark daughter,
And wide,How,HowTo rear you,My love,My daughter?In the worldWhere nobody strivesTo knowWhat it marauds your self,What it hurts your sentimentsNobody cares to,My daughter.