The Soul's Whisper

The Soul’s Whisper

Poems by
Biswajit Dash
2009

Biswajit Dash
Visit me at: http://bluebardpoems.wordpress.com
Email: biswajitdash79@gmail.com
©Biswajit Dash, 2009

War and Peace
May 18, 2009

On a horse wild, burgundy and smart,
He travelled miles to catch.
Through cotton fields and the blue sky;
He followed the dragon’s shadow.
A vow that he spelt, the oath he lived
Had glimpses scattered of a martyr’s heart.

There were shepherds, who saw him,
And Paths that have heard his horse’s hoof.
Somewhere when he stopped to see;
There were lives miserable than war.
Somewhere yet again there is a dream
To defeat the huge wings of misfortune.
Through the woods and the rivers,
Cutting the greenery apart like in verse;
There is a great truth to witness.

There is great peace, greater gain,
Not in war but in love again.

---------------------------------

Biswajit Dash

A Letter before the last song
May 1, 2009

What pleasure you draw among these choristers?
Among these sweet meadow and rough flecks,
When I trod the trodden and listen to the mermaids,
Father to father sing all dazzles and the twisters.
In Love there is initiation and a Sun that shakes.

The wind is restless, the fragrances galore;
I will sing till the end, or till I sleep forever.
Those evening wanderings on the museum floor;
Are now hymns in the woodland living ever.

Let me pluck no daffodil again nor smell,
The bouquets don’t live what beauty I intend.
Let me be drunk and sit alone in that vale
Or sing the greatest ballads to the unseen friend.

Your joys live in you and sorrows pass,
Like a sudden undreamt flush of sea.
I will what I can on this gleaming brass
Write as much in pain for you to agree.

We will not be the frozen tears decree.
All flecks gathered make the same impression,
But none gives the warmth I dream.
I will for sure till the end sing and see
What ears you can lend to these years gone.
I will stand up and sing what I dream.
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Biswajit Dash

Prayers in a summer night
April 28, 2009

How long can I walk to hide the shadow?
Where I move it moves, when I sit idle it creeps,
To walk, to move, to journey the subtle trail.
I dreamt of the muses as the years grow
All that can live forever and sweeps
The age old paradoxes of life and death.

What is not dreamt ever is achieved.
We will grow together and together shall live
In the citadels of well-lit intellect.
Where to begin and what to thrive,
All hymns sing and all perceived.
In tribulations we will find our faith.
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Biswajit Dash

An encounter with all that is lost
April 22, 2009

These foliage of the past have bragged
And are now among the repercussions
Of grandeur undefined, untouched.
The king plays the flute and a soldier
Sings the paradise, the victory attained.
The sword lies unheard and the shield rusts;
No war can heal, no talk can solace.

The symphony around the swans,
The lush green paddy fields and
The floating of a satin from the castle;
All run in these dreamy veins.
On a sepulchre now all will rest
And announce the romance of time.

The satin now is a distant dream,
With the shepherd lying unheard.
What will heal are the old fathered herbs
For the stones still bleed and battle cry.
An Oedipus here and a Homer there;
I see all the muses in this old satin.

What breed will time grow?
What tides will rise under the moon?
Let me anchor these feelings;
You will sing them in solitude soon
And long to meet someone and show.

---------------------------------------------

Biswajit Dash

On having a dialogue in the dilemma
April 16, 2009

There is a juggler in the streets of sadness,
With a bag full of mundane surprises.
With this arid melancholy resounding,
Will this world come into play and sing?

A clown claps with tattered cloth,
With dry hay here and there.
On Rustic and mediocre genre
This race of owls fit with no vision
That the hatched egg loathe.

The audacity to chirp and fly to the blue,
Will be the most childish passion to grow.
The last romantics died and few
Near the lake never bred strains or crow.
There is no wilderness far, it’s in here.
People living together but with fear.
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Biswajit Dash

Sisters of Mount Helicon
April 7, 2009

In the subway I saw Erato lying.
Her yellow and orange tattered gown,
Now inherited the souls of brown.
Erato! The muse who inspired Love;
How can you be dead and your rose dying?
Daughter of Zeus, mother of a thousand tales,
You have lived for ages and strove
To join this mad band of gales?

For long I stood amazed in the burrow;
A soul filled with solitude and sorrow.
The stained wall, may be never painted,
Showed apparitions of flying muses fainted.
The green and blue clouds are not seen,
For long they have left Mount Helicon.

Oh! Homer, and men and women
Who have seen these muses alive?
Tell me what they talked and gain
A life full of love as for ages will thrive.

There arose a white apparition,
With soft pink satin around.
A spirit so free and unbound
From the frivolities of aberration.

Is this the Phoenician story of my Love?
Or the beautiful and eternal journey
Of the Sisters of Mount Helicon?
-----------------------------------------

Biswajit Dash

The Oak of Wisdom
Aril 5, 2009

In these hours of colossal ruins,
When nothing almost heals or whispers;
I welcome all men and women and their kins,
To live and let live and then disperse.

What breed will all salmons grow
With an oiled ocean and spilled death?
A more green earth, a passage so slow;
Let us live those generations of faith.

The tranquil waves and ripples so smart,
Let all gather no moss but a possibility.
Our books have spoiled the beating heart,
And parentage is looked upon with agility.
Where reasons die and rescue ashamed
The wreckage of glory and memoir spread.

On an unending journey will we march?
Or settle down for a civilization profound?
Let us all promise once again before the Ides,
We will face together the changing tides.
Under the Oak let’s have our pledge now
To be wise and loving as we grow.
--------------------------------------------

Biswajit Dash

From an abandoned seaside
April 4, 2009

The ringing bells and the singing shells
I gift you o blessed friend of mine.
There is enough boredom in these citadels;
Where life doesn’t live nor die.
These plastic smiles and thirsty mackerels
Around they live and leave others to die.
What if this cycle is broken?

The several lives that we have lived,
The several deaths we have died.
The several things we lost in the wild
And the few good wishes we filed.
Will all these come into play?

I can still see you on the mad sepulchre
Waiting for me, with a dead plant beside.
To lit your destined dream and desire,
May I call upon you on the seaside?

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Biswajit Dash

From Nowhere
March 25, 2009

A great journey, a devout soul;
Ends in the quiet pages.
Life is a great tale of the glories,
And the ghosts that sound fowl.
It’s fate that a being fights.

From nowhere rises the wild tempest.
From nowhere we earn the crest.
A move well taken, a journey well pursued.
From nowhere to somewhere,
Time accompanies the brave.
Sitting in these metro racks,
Greenery is a distant but only dream.
From nowhere to somewhere,
This dream gets flesh and blood to live.
A thousand wishes drive.

A great journey, a devout soul;
Is all what a being dreams.
But somewhere this journey ends.
And somewhere this dream breaks.
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Biswajit Dash

Confession
January 5, 2008

Where do I find you?
O blessed friends of mine?
Time will pass without a clue,
Leaving behind ten and nine.
Our smiles and our tears
All will move with us
Till eternity.

The battle is over, the winner declared.
But will echoes of the night-cries not follow?
A battle is lost and a battle won.
But the corpses falling from the sky;
Will not they swallow?

O Buddha teach me love
And teach me the tests of time.
let me be ever blessed like all.
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Biswajit Dash

The Lonely Traveller
September 15, 2007

The lonely traveller of a path
whose soul loneliness is,
finds for the imprints on the sand
that were left years before -
But true it is that goes in hand,
Relations are prints on that sand,
which can’t be found ever.
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Biswajit Dash

The Soul's Whisper
January 5, 2008

“Walk alone,
For the towers may fall,
And rivers may stop;
The lights may quit and statues may hop,
But the graves will never lie, for time’s infinite gusts
Have ruled upon them.

Man is forever to mourn
Over his spring and fall,
Man is forever to cry
Over the iron monuments that rusts.
Caverns lie as caverns only,
The sage never dies in it;
He moves to the other world
With joy, with bliss, with ecstasy,
For he had once heard his master’s say -

“Walk Alone! Walk Alone!”

Biswajit Dash

The Soul's Whisper

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