False Promise of New Year

I wrote the poem below today morning in my mother tongue Axomiya ( Assamese) and translated to English just now. Posting the poems in reverse order here.

Isn’t the year about to end,
Why no one has let the bird
singing merrily know;

I asked the half-bloomed rosebud
Stiffened in the winter cold,
No, no one told her,
The year is just about to end;

I asked my dog
Sitting and lookin out,
Did anyone tell him,
In a little while
The year about to turn;
He ignored me and
kept looking out,
Maybe waiting for
winter to end and
return of spring, when
He can frolick in
the cradle of nature again;

I asked nature
Are you getting ready to
Welcome the new year?
Smiled she sadly and said,
Will you listen to my pain?
I haven’t figured out a way
To protect my children from
the madness of mankind
shouting hoarse about
Global warming and
climate change;
Spare me the additional pollution
of your insanity,
The false promise of
A Happy New Year.

ভুৱা প্ৰতিশ্ৰুতি নৱবৰ্ষৰ

বছৰটো হেনো শেষ হব ওলাইছে,
কোৱা নাই কোনেও বাৰু কিয়
আনন্দেৰে গান গাই থকা চৰাইটোক;
সুধিলো শীতত ঠেৰেঙা লাগি
ফুলো ফুলো কৰি আধা ফুলা হৈ থকা
গোলাপৰ কলিটিক,
নাই, কোৱা নাই কোনেও
বছৰ বাগৰিছে বুলি গোলাপীক,
বাহিৰলৈ চাই বহি থকা মোৰ কুকুৰটোক
সুধিলো জান জানো ত‌ই
বছৰ বাগৰিব আৰু কেইটামান ঘণ্টাত;
আওকাণ কৰি মোক
চাই থাকিল সি বাহিৰলৈ
হয়তো অপেক্ষাত
কেতিয়ানো হ’ব শীতৰ অন্ত,
আহিব বসন্ত আৰু
আনন্দৰে সি কৰিব বিচৰণ
প্ৰকৃতিৰ কোলাত;
সুধিলোঁ প্ৰকৃতিক মই
হৈছানে সাজু তুমি আদৰিবলৈ
নতুন বছৰক?
প্ৰকৃতিয়ে হাঁহিলে দুখেৰে, ক’লে
শুনিবাজানো কথা মোৰ বেজাৰৰ,
ভাবি পোৱা নাই উপায় মই
ৰক্ষা কৰো কেনেক
সন্তানক মোৰ
বিশ্বব্যাপী উষ্ণতা আৰু
জলবায়ু পৰিবৰ্ত্তনক লৈ হাহাকাৰ কৰা
উন্মত্ত মানবৰ মূৰ্খামিৰ পৰা;
নালাগে মোক অতিৰিক্ত প্ৰদূষণ
তোমাৰ উন্মাদনাৰ,
ভুৱা প্ৰতিশ্ৰুতি এটা নৱবৰ্ষৰ।

Now the question is how do I say happy new year to my readers after this. The bird sang in my ear and said, yes you can in the least polluted way and my dog Skooby barked his approval with a loud woof. So here it goes my dear readers, A Very Happy New Year 2022 to You.

Tears of a Rosebud

The damsel waits,
For the long winter night to end, and
The warm embrace from
Her beloved,
To make her blossom,
With nature’s gift, to
Debut her beauty, and
Her sweet fragrance, that
Will attract her suitor, her
Nectar, effervescent, ready to spill.

Alas, the night dragged on, and
Cold hand of winter touches with
A deathly kiss, as
She wraps her tightly to
Avoid the chill,
Morning comes, cold and wet,
Her beloved hides behind the clouds.

First winter showers
Run down her cheeks,
As she cries for what
Could have been,
Spring is just a distant dream,
This bud won’t bloom,
Her gardener won’t come,
She cries, as
Death looms.

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Photo by author in his garden today(12/12/20) morning.

Cloud kissed hills

Behind the cloud kissed hills,

Hides the sun,

As spring retreats,

Behind a winter screen.

April showers may

Bring May flowers,

Will nature wash out our sins,

And flush Corona virus?

Lonely Rose in Winter : RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge # 230 Exist & Today

This post is in response to Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge .

Photograph by author, Dec 4, 2018

Rose lonely today

Alas, winter’s brutal cold

But hope does exist

Game of Love

The game of love

Is not what you think

Takes two to tango

Just one to break up

A spring of dreams

Laid barren by

Midsummer’s sun

Sent to cold storage

Deep Winter’s snow

Yesterday’s rose petals

Withered and blown away

The game of love

Flourishes watered by

Faith and hope

Patience and desire

Compromise makes it bloom

The game of love

Not for the faint hearted

Commitment keeps it alive

Weathering storms of doubt

The game of love

Rich pleasure

For those

Willing for

A slow waltz

Pregnant Sky and Rainbows : Tuesday Photo Challenge – Rain

This week’s Tuesday Photo Challenge prompt from Frank  is  “Rain“.

I grew up with rains, lots of it, about seventy inches in average a year.  Monsoon, thunder and lightning.  Sound of raindrops drumming on the rooftop.  Hot, humid summers cooled down by a sudden downpour.  Flash floods and muddy roads, swift flowing rivers, overflowing drains.  And the place with most rain, Mawsynram, four hundred seventy inches of it, is about sixty miles away from the city I grew up.

Now I live in place with hardly any rain, just an average of fifteen inches a year and that too in winter.  Last few years we had much less than fifteen inches, with about eight inches in 2015 and about four inches in 2013.  So as you can imagine many a times we play hide and seek with rain clouds and we get deceived. Today is such a day, the sky is gray, the day is cloudy and there is just a nine percent chance of rain.  From experience I know it is not going to rain.  Here is a photo of  grey sky today pregnant with the promise of rain that will turn out to be deceiving.  Couple of months back I had posted a poem, Flirtatious Rain Clouds , on this topic.

Sun fighting a losing battle with the clouds but chances of rain is minimal.

But there is always hope and what is hope if not that elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And where would be a rainbow without rain.

Storm

Another school shooting, another debate. When will this stop?  Congress have blood in their hands. Hiding behind the second amendment, debate will go on between the gun lobby and those clamoring for gun restriction while innocents will pay the price.

I wrote this poem a day after six religious fanatics shot dead hundred and forty nine people including hundred and thirty two students in a school in Peshawar, Pakistan on December 14, 2014.  Originally posted this poem in my blog on December 20, 2015. 

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Storm

There was a storm here yesterday,
And I saw this tree
Bereft of all the beautiful colored foliages,
Strewn all around it on the ground.
One leaf was clinging to a branch
Quivering in the winds, trying to hang around.

I Sing the Summer Blues

I love winter
With its promise
Of spring not far behind
You say you have
The winter blues
But hope is
All that I live for
I sing the
Summer blues
While sunshine
Lights up the world
I stay indoors
Don’t want to be burned
By the scorching sun
Or the raging envy
At the six pack abs
The sculpted bodies
On the beach
I hide my
Hibernating fats
Well hidden
By winter’s warm clothes
Summer shamelessly disrobes
For public view
Body shamed
I ruefully sing
The summer blues

Nature Confused

It’s still winter
Nature forgot
It’s not spring

Not yet
But daffodils
Are blooming

Nature confused
Or
Signs of
Global warming

Almaden Valley after the rains

How green is my valley
It’s still winter
With advent of spring
When the world will
Turn green
Rain clouds will part
Sun will shine bright
Alas
My valley will turn
Golden brown again