Red Hot Tongue of Fire

My home state, California, specifically northern California is burning, fires ignited by dry lightning. Many had to flee their homes to safety as firefighters fight valiantly to tame the fires. The poem below was written in English yesterday and than translated to my mother tongue Assamese (Axomiya) about my feelings of the last few days as the fires rage on.

between sunset and sunrise,
lies the vagaries of the night,
destiny rings the bell,
lightning strikes,
dreams go up in flames.

as you flee,
as you flee,
you look back,
and there is
nothing to see,
there against the darkness,
dances the red hot tongue,
ravenous to devour all
in its path.

tears no match to
quench its thirst,
a scorched earth silently
curses a heartless sky,
and at sunrise,
sun hides its face, ashamed,
taking cover behind the
smoke screen.

as the tired bodies throw
themselves at the roaring monster,
nature claims victory
over the mortals,
dawn breaks,
a new day of dashed hopes,
and for many,
nowhere to go.

অগ্নিৰ লেলিহান শিখা

সুৰ্যাস্ত আৰু সুৰ্যোদয়ৰ মাজত
খেয়ালী নিশাৰ সপোনৰ খেল,
দূৰৈত নি‌‌য়তিৰ কূটিল হাঁহি,
বিজুলীৰ নাচোন,
ধোঁৱা হৈ উৰি গ’ল
সোণালী সপোন।

পলোৱা, পেলোৱা,
পিছলৈ ঘূৰি চাই দেখিবা কি?
অন্ধকাৰ আকাশৰ চিত্ৰপটত
নাচে জলন্ত অগ্নিৰ
ৰক্তিম লেলিহান শিখা,
সমুখত সকলো কৰি ভস্মীভূত,
প্ৰচণ্ড ক্ষুধাত
অগ্ৰগামী মূৰ্তিমান বিভীষিকা।

চকুপানীত তোমাৰ
নহয় পূৰণ তৃষ্ণা তাইৰ,
অগ্নিদগ্ধ ধৰণীয়ে দিয়ে অভিশাপ
হৃদয়হীন শুকান আকাশক।
আৰু সুৰ্যোদয়ত?
লজ্জিত অৰুণে
ছাঁই হৈ যোৱা সপোনৰ
ধোঁৱাৰ ওৰণি তলত,
লাজতে লুকাই মুখ।

ক্লান্ত দেহবোৰে যেতিয়া
ৰুধিবলে ক্ষুদ্ধিত বহ্নিৰ অগ্ৰসৰ
মৃত্যুকো নেওচি পৰে জপি‌য়াই,
প্ৰকৃতিয়ে মৰণশীল মানৱৰ ওপৰত
কৰে বিজয় ঘোষণা।
দিগন্তত তেতিয়া ৰাতিপুৱাৰ আভাষ,
এটা নতুন দিন ভগ্ন সপোনৰ,
আৰু বহুজনৰ
সপোনৰ শেষ,
নাই কোনো ঘৰ
ঘূৰি যাবলৈ।

Ethereal Enchantress

This poem was first written in Assamese (Axomiya, my mother tongue) and I translated it to English today. The original poem is attached below the English version.

Ethereal Enchantress

 

Oh my ethereal muse,

Your shadow dances across

the mirror of my imagination.

Crossing the boundary of dreams, Continue reading “Ethereal Enchantress”

Unanswered Prayers

I sent a prayer up,
Reply never came down.
May be dreams escaped my sleep,
And the lotto ticket
Just another piece of paper
In the morning.
O’ wait,
I have not checked
The results yet.
The dream can live on
For a few more moments,
But the coffee calls.
Now only if I can leave
The warmth of the bed.
Peace made an exit
When greed entered,
And prayers remained
Unanswered.

No Shame in Failing

Temper dreams with pragmatism
Resolve with fortitude
A slide down with a lift up
Banish self doubt with conviction
Have faith on self
Give mind a free rein
But do keep control
There is a reason
Brain is not on your loin
Those led by their loins
Will perish by their loins
Do the right thing
Think but do follow through
No shame in failing

Where dreams come to die

‘We know their dream; enough

To know they dreamed and are dead; ‘ —W.B. Yeats ‘

 

Beware all ye who tread this road
Myriads traversed this path long before

This path is paved by their bones
Turn around, turn around
Before your dreams crush to dust
Swept under the swirling sands of history
Cries to feeble for those who follow to hear
Sordid stories of the powerful and the mighty
Spinning webs of fortune and glory
Fools following their calls of perceived glitter
Paid the ultimate price, this path doth litter
With their unfulfilled dreams
Ghosts of the tyrants and marauders of the past
False messiahs and society’s vainglorious leaders
With pretentious messages cast long shadows
Ruination only reward for those who follow
Does it matter who go first, dreams or dreamers
Blind followers’ dreams will lie shattered
Those who are left behind
Sheltered observers, detached all
Would rue the lessons of history not learnt
From the safe cocoons of their warm hearths
Wonder why no one heard their call
Beware ye all,
This road is the one chosen
Of all those dreamers
Who left behind their cry
Listen ye all, listen well
This road is the one
Where dreams come to die


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Twenty Four

Bell tolls for all

‘You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring
The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.’ —W.B. Yeats

Battlefields were gone long ago, bones turned to dust
Thousands perished here feeding conquerors’ power lust

They were young once, full of ambitions and dreams
Life cut short in distant lands amid pain and screams

Call of duty, false pride or manipulated by the powerful
They came in hordes, primed to kill, but dying like fools

Promises unfulfilled, broken hearts’ lonely cries unheard
Silent cries crush the hearts of myriad orphans left behind

Crumpled statues litter the landscape, those who gave the war calls
Take heart lost ones, when the dust settles, the bell tolls for all


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Fifteen

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