Blue pastel colours beside the palate stinks today,Tomorrow the small days will grow oldThe shards of glass is hiding my clothes,Even today the memories remain...Even today the telephone beside my diary ringsAgain and again.
These threads of enchantment,Have got entangled in my fingersI have no clue,How to solve open this knot.Today very particle of my body seems to remain like the last raga of that night,That passes through the clouds.
Every evening the lights from the lampsBlinds me into frenzyHow is this regard?These dreams make me shudderI close my eyes to weave a road,A road to intoxication...tolerance.
If this rains like a storm, there is a way out hereInto a glass of desireSo many times I broke your mirrorTo look through the rays into your eyesBut the numb river flows like never beforeAnd the telephone beside the diary rings again and again...
©Madhurima Halder
A little tune spreading soonFar and nearThe brush touches the canvasFrom here to there.
Blushing like a bride...
As if the gardens of song grow roses in themAs if the little tune spreading soonFar and near.The hamlets open their doors without dismay.
The canvas standing on the easel shudderedWhile I drewThe Sun with a brighter Form of new
Achinpur...I created AchinpurAll afternoonI made Achinpur...
©Madhurima Halder
Thousand seconds to figure out what happened
Twelve seasons of monsoons passed by,And still they remain in droughtTrying to figure out through the windows of glass.O desires of heart, what have you created?
Fifty one memories did make me bleed,Seventy three more to rip my woundsWhat is it that I am trying to figure out through the panes of mist,The monsoon or the drought?The famine or the loneliness of the days?
When impossibility turns it's head downTranslating the unscripted wordsWhat is it that remains?O the garden of timeWhy are you pacing so hard?
Smoke is starting to set fire on iceThrough the bliss of paradise, Pigeons walkWhen unbearable lightning of the sky touches, I start to realise, what did I lose,Was it the time or just a single moment of love?
Destiny designing it's way out of my heartThe waves of sea turns stillWhy are you being so stubborn?Flow over the last part of droughtThe desires will start realizing the arrivals of monsoon.
Eighty seven touches on the toughest partFeathers seem like stones.The excitement of the months keep arousingThe timely tales of rain that casts the clock today.
Why aren't you mad O heart?Why don't you find your own door...Pavements of diamonds near the fountains, sparkle
While the sailing smoke speak on its way.
©Madhurima Halder
