The Winter Within

Nothing is able to erase the wound
Left over years ago.
What left behind are all frozen emotions
And stale reminder.

The lively moments flicker off and on
Chasing memory.
Should I turn the clock and rectify
All off beam actions.

Efforts were made but proved wrong
It’s all wastage.
To map the routine, the usual sin runs
Through cold blood.

So much to do, so little the gain
Time to move on.
But hands shaken, legs totter in
The winter within.

Gopal Lahiri

Uncared Soul

An afterthought, a pause
God’s own creation; the innocent children
Are they happy all around?

What is the number?
Millions, billions all over the world
Countless is the true story.

All those clusters on road side
Park, unused pipes or abandoned places
Unwanted, teased and abused.

In torn dresses, dirty faces
If he or she ask or strive for better
The answer is plain and simple.

Not for everyone- as they say
Life dependant solely on mercy or charity
No one to look after the well-being.

You hear, listen yet pass on without
Looking at the hungry eyes
Think of someone to come and rescue them
Not you or your good self.

A flower to blossom, to play
With tiny butterflies or honey bees
Left uncared and withered in a corner.

Gopal Lahiri

Walk in the wild

Walk in the elephanta grass, you feel
The nuances of these wild surroundings
Sunrays filter through the leafy trees.

Misty morning waking up slowly
Whose creature is the curve in the wood?

You ponder for a moment and move along
Till reach near the lean river and look at
The water washes white cobbles and pebbles.

The sound of waterfall nearby break the silence
Is there a barking dear behind the bush?

Or else the twitching voice of hornbill
And whistling till at a distance. Standing on
The wooden bridge built centuries ago
You go back to the glorious past and cry.

Teardrops wither in the morning glow
You promise again to bring changes in life.

Gopal Lahiri