THE PLOP OF A FROG-COLORED-GRIEF
Everything is creased & kept
In right place & order
To avoid even a particle of dust.
But all worms
Are not devised to
Die before
A naphthalene.
The dead narcissus,
The spittle of wind on windowpane,
The half-empty dish of rice
Beside the folded mattress
Make me return & recall
The days of nursery school,
The lesson of my favorite farmer.
His corns would come & store themselves magically !
Flying out of ancient hearth
Gods & dogs
Gift me
The vessel of ashes.
Being deaf,I hear
The 'plop'
Of a frog-colored-grief
On the lake of desire. . .
--------------------------
ZEBRA-CROSSING
It had been too long;
There's no news of Your whereabouts.
It was...I forgot when
'U' made me stop,stand still,
Staring at 'U' at the zebra-crossing.
Do 'U' remember ?
'U' were subverting the roads
With Your fingers,
Saying- Be careful !
Now I violate traffic-rules
Without being injured
By vehicles.
Reserving the swelling of heart,
Time sinks
Under
Share-market..hospital...dark-chamber....
Could 'U' recall the date
We had sailed on the street,
Crossed by a cat ?
--------------------------
GIFT
Offering all the continence to 'U'
I've gone to the dogs..
-----------------------
THE PENT-HOUSE
Address changes.
C/o contains another name .
Papa has found a tenant again
For the leftsided pent-house.
Aged furniture're stimulating Nut-brown dreams,
Being distressed inside the godown.
Yesterday Rini came, vacantly informed Your whereabouts :
Do you remember 'Abhi' ?
I change The course of talk, like that of address,
Look back where she had been too li'l To percept such things.
Still, she halfsighted The penthouse, the green sky, The open portico, the flabby clots of feeling...
Smearing a stoical fascination
'U' only – closed your eyes..
-----------------------------
THE GOLDEN MOSS
Is that possible to ignore
The call from mosquito-curtain
At midnight ?
It seems that
There's a way to escape.
The moments under paper-weight
Are dumb like a dead clock.
Hush !
The remaining moss of life
Is sleeping . .
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SHORT LITERARY PROFILE
SUBHRASANKAR DAS,born in first May 1986 at Tripura(north-eastern part of India),is a prominent figure in modern Bengali literature.He writes both in Bengali & English (POETRY, Shortstories For adults & children). His poems in English have been published & appreciated in various International web-magazines/journals/blogs.
He is MA(english), DCA, an artist of All India radio(Agrtala),& Bisharad in tabla; working as a Teacher(English) in SriKrishna Mission School.
His Poems,short stories,reviews & interviews have been published in local newspapers(ex-Dainik sambad,Fariad,Tripura darpan,Sandan,Arohan,DesherKotha,PratibadiKolom,Tripura times etc).
* He writes poetry in top literary & commercial magazines:
(Kolkata)-Kabisammelen,KabitaPratimase,Pratham Alo,Pankauri,Daur,Dadhichi,Uttar itihas etc
.(Tripura)-Vasha,Jalaja,Srot,Prahari,Bajrakantha,Kalbela,BortomanSomoy,Windows,Jhinuk etc.
(Assam/Gawahati/Silchr)-Anno desh,Betrikam,Kabikantha,Jugasankha,Ujjal pandulipi etc.
* His poems have been included in many collection of poems:
Mukur(Kolkata),Tin Benglar sunner Kobita(Bengladesh),Kabitaghar(tripura),Ek doshoker kobita sonkolon(kolkata)& others.
* Few poems have been recorded in (cdmp3)'KobiKonthe kobita'(souharda,Kolkata)& "Je matite jibon jage''(Eastern school of publication).
*He has been invited & awarded as 'Best poet 2008'by 'Binay padakcommittee',kolkata(Poschimbongo Bengla Academy)for his book'Tontukit'.He has been invited at state little-mag conference,seminers organised by "National Book Trust , India "& many other programs dealing with poetry,literature & publication.Poems in English have been published and appreciated in various international journals/web magazines/blogs.*HAS GOT INVITATION FROM THE PRESIDENT OF '22ND WORLD CONGRESS OF POETS'(LARISSA , GREECE 2011),'united poets laureate international'..