On my islet of lonely moments
Where there had been-
Rains of half-swallowed
Bones of good time
And flesh of evil desires
On the stale shy plates
Of insatiable hunger,
And there lies an old mansion
Where dwell the strange
And deadly ghosts of my killers
Never recognized and who devise
Newer tricks each day.
ଓଠ ର ଅନଙ୍ଗ ରଙ୍ଗ –ତୁମ ବାହୁ ଡୋରଉଷୁମ ପରଶ,ମିଠା ଛୁଆଁ ଅନ୍ତରଙ୍ଗ ।ଝରା ବଉଳ ରସୁରଭିତ କେଶଥିରି ଚାଲି, ମିଠା ଗଳା,ସାରା ପାନ୍ଥଶାଳାକାନ୍ଥରେ ଲେଖାପ୍ରଣୟ ର ବର୍ଣମାଳା
This one is a sweet world,Sweet andsoft,Soft and warm,Warm and sweet.And the sweet worldCentres around only one bodyThat is this,My mother.
In the face of an estranged mirror.
Our king had a linenfor dialects foreign, alienbut spoke native on special days, to bless.His courtiers were wiseHe need not be.They thought for himand planned or did decideeverything, kept Him free.He had all that to fostera dose of marijuana each hourto keep him actively forgetwhat he must not do or have soughton this mundane life,…
A blue saree,A pair of pink lipsTwo eyes, deep, hazel and beautiful,A tug of dark hair hidingThousand love letters within.A smiling face invokingA lust for life, to live with youFor Hundreds of births,From time immemorial acrossThe endpoints of time and space.
When my eyes started to blink.
