Poems and Poetry

P.K. Deb

The Monster of Something More | A Poem by P.K. Deb

The monster of something more
pulls instantly tongue out of mouth
of the protruding eyes
looking at other alluring stuff
and compels it to wild breathing
making ashamed even a dog – a pet or wild
yet it feels good
to deduct the feeble
from the competition
trampling them mercilessly in mad hustle
and piling them into a stack
to climb up to the level of abundance;
to cheat the friends of same dish in conspiracy
throwing them in the cobweb of bankruptcy,
to fuel and exercise its monopoly power
in killing the rivals in conflict
tempting the God fearing too
to go under devil
to worship it and gain its black blessings
and fly smokes and greed up and up
combined with sharp nails of carbon and desires
to pinch the ozone-layer in the sky
and leak our hearts too
to bade goodbye to oxygen and life
from the body of ozone-layer and mankind at last…

Mind Your Own Business | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Benevolent arguments-
delivered by foretelling tongues
ought to be placed on heart and soul
yet these are rewarded a prompt rejection
by even the cavities of the new ears,
as these don’t hold water
to the eyes-
just opened in a fresh morning
brought about by an innovative sunshine
to witness one another
as shameless and careless
holding hammers in their green hands
to grind the white feelings of the old hearts.
‘’Mind your own business’’
the young sound wave pierces
the old tongues-
habituated to have a finger in their pie
whether fresh or rotten
for more purification,
but holding their heads high,
the fresh hearts
hold their pie well and have the cheek
to show the burnt eyes a white pigeon
nesting in the gap
between the new and the old hearts
termed and nurtured of late
as the generation gap
making many brimful hearts absolutely vacant.

The Two Hosts | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Mind and soul-
the two hosts wait always
to welcome their body-
ashamed, confused and hesitated
for collocating its bare head with their own hats
but the careful body
keeps examining by turn
head to tail of a central point
appearing between the two hosts
its simple knowledge
turns into complex wisdom
to make everything quite naked
and pride and contumacy
meet with the lost shamefulness
in the illumination of a fuse bulb
hanging so far in its dark room
making even its handicapped eyes
a scanning machine
to judge the two enthusiastic hosts-
the mind
who hangs around
carrying a lazy cat on his lap
and the soul
who waits with a malnourished human baby
on his safe lap of comfort with great care.

The Mad Wiseacres | A Poem by P.K. Deb

In the kingdom of wiseacres
wisdom is made captive property
and all are automatic to be bewitched
and involved in blind chasing and counter-chasing.
So my sister’s wit chases me,
my brother’s wit bites me
and my friend’s wit barks at me
since my wit makes them foolish.
Some may be wistful wooer to one another
Yet they make themselves withered
and thus withstand in the composition of an epic.
The woeful importunity may be wordy
but noisy to the ears of the wiseacres
and hence unheard mercilessly.
Nevertheless, the earth rotates and revolves
and the world gives indulgence to wiseacres
and witnesses all to be deaf, dumb and blind
in the rescue of captive wisdom
from the clutches of the mad wiseacres.

A Sweet Home | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Maybe, quite enchanting
yet all – the home seekers
ought to be careful of
a glance of glamorous eyes,
within a fraction of moment
that can compose a wonderful epic,
a comedy or a tragedy,
germinate some glisten globes –
outwardly similar and inwardly mysterious,
and swing in the glossy sky of probability.
Ensnared and confused are all
in the illusive fair of globes,
yet everything is sold and purchased
in quest of a sweet home.
Nevertheless, in the age of skyscrapers,
the disciples-both of God and Devil are still
looking for a sweet home to live
with the owners of those glamorous eyes.

Mortal and Immortal | A Poem by P.K. Deb

In the hard ring of life
mortal and immortal challenge each other
in a wrestling contest
from morning to night,
select the favorite one between ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ –
to be used by a confused life.
Indeed, it’s a got up match,
featured by uniformed rivals,
ensnared supporters encircling the ring
and a fixed and separate winning hours
for both mortal and immortal.

The golden time – hot and luminous,
from late morning to early evening,
bestows mortal with invincibility
over everything – material and immaterial.
But frosty and dark is the rest time –
from early evening to next early morning,
enough for mortal to be scared
and sheltered behind immortal –
quite awaken and mighty as a winner
and a line of discipline is set in the game of life.

Nevertheless, life is to be ill-efficient and disturbed
in choosing between Yes and No,
surprised at the interference of mortal and immortal
in each other’s jurisdiction at wrong time –
making life full of confusions and hesitations.

A Got-Up Video Game | A Poem by P.K. Deb

A got-up video game –
played on the screen of reality
where every click may not be responded
and every level may not be crossed over,
yet clicking is always unabated.
A babbling bunny –
selected as a super hero,
openly by the tumultuous kids
but secretly by an invisible adult,
for the game to win.
Slowly but steadily,
powers are obtained step by step,
villains are defeated one by one
and doors are opened level by level.
In the climax, only two doors –
almost twins and adjacent to each other,
remaining to be opened to win the game,
the left – for the kids
and the right – for the invisible.
The blockhead kids –
quite blissful in reaching the left door,
hopeful for winning the game
and prompt to press the click.
Alas! The hero is irresponsive to the click
but spontaneous to reach
and open the right door in no time.
A roar of laughter reverberates in the air,
makes the kids astonished and disappointed too.