The Dried Rose

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The dried, dark rose

Concealed within the pages of my diary

Whispers countless words

On a full moon night

When the heart is soaked in love

And chained by memories. 

Those are the words 

That were left unsaid

Like an unsolved puzzle,

An incomplete play,

Or a beautiful portrait

Left half-colored midway.

You perhaps wanted me to solve it,

But I was no master at the craft

I was too naive for mind games.

Dawn arrives with a new hope

The neglected, dried rose

Sigh at an incomplete story;

I quietly close the diary

Unchain my heart from the memories

And get back to reality.

-Purba Chakraborty

(12.02.2017)

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights – Love’s a night-song sweet sung by the tender strokes of wind – Valentine’s Day Special and Poetry Pantry #340

Have you checked out the new cover of my poetry book? The book is absolutely free to download on your Kindle App and Device till the 14th Feb. A small Valentine's Day gift from my side. Grab your copy from Amazon now!

Like a broken guitar

Like a broken guitar,

I lie mangled and overrun

In the labyrinth of life

Amid the sea of people.

My melody has fallen between cracks

As I gave myself to people

Who couldn't hear my music

My chords are broken

And I lie numb and soundless

Amid the charring noise

Seeping life out of me.

Like a lost child in a fair

I run from people to people

Asking countless questions 

As the questions multiply manifold.

Defeated, I close my eyes

Listen to my heart beats in silence

My broken strings gently collide

I hear some music; faint and delicate

Perplexed, I take a deep look within

Where I find an ocean of melody left

Although I am apparently broken.

-Purba Chakraborty

19.09.2016

Linking my poem with Prompt Nights by Sanaa : That which we seek; deep within will find – “IDENTITY”

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Dollops of sunshine

I was a resolute seeker,

Seeking dollops of delectable sunshine

In dense, misty forests

And algid, snow-clad mountains,

In my deep, gloomy days

And moments of stinging despondency,

In bitter, acerbic people

And in those who're deceived by fate.

My search restlessly continued

In every lane and place,

Moment, day and person

Till I looked within

And communicated with my soul;

Deep down there,

I found the priceless treasure

Of delicious sun and soothing zephyr.

Now, I carry my own sunshine,

Spread it wherever I go

And share it with whoever I come across.

-Purba Chakraborty

(17.04.2016)

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry #298 and Prompt Nights: Pour me drops of glorious sunshine

The Hill Song

I haven't yet discovered a joy

More jubilant than dancing carefree

To the tantalizing song of Nature.

I haven't known freedom in its full glory

Until I lost myself slowly and steadily

In the wind and the rain.

I never saw beauty and modesty coexisting

Until the flowers and the green carpet

Invited me for an informal chit chat.

The hill song is an enchanting lullaby now

I yearn to hear it again and again

To sleep well and find the music in me.

I keep going back to the hills

Bask in the delicious sun and the greenery

Read the love letter of the mountain breeze.

Listening to the inner and the outer tune

I slumber peacefully on the verdant earth

My soul talks to the flowers.

-Purba Chakraborty

(6.03.2016)

Linking this poem to Prompt Nights – When besotted with Green [8] and Poetry Pantry #292

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To celebrate the International Women's Day on 8th March, 2016, my poetry book "The Heart Listens To No One...it hums its own song" will be free to download from 6th to 8th March in the Amazon Kindle Store.

Download your free copy on Amazon.in

Download your free copy on Amazon.com

Playful Shadow of Reality!

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Revealing the truth

In shreds and bits

Some sprinkled here

Some scattered over there;

Revealing the truth

Wearing a mask

So that the readers

Cannot connect all the dots.

Fiction is a playful shadow

Of reality and truth;

Following it loyally

Imitating it in parts.

If the fiction is touching,

Trust that the reality is heart shattering.

-Purba Chakraborty

(8.02.16)

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights – Truth is stranger than Fiction [5] and sharing with Poetry Pantry #288

Cup of Nostalgia!

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She sits by the window

With an old letter

And a cup of nostalgia;

As she savors them,

Voices and laughter become audible

The addictive smell of cologne, prominent.

She closes her eyes

To feel the softness of roses

And the enticing warmth of his breath.

Once she revels in the cup of nostalgia,

Nothing seems subtle and distant

Every smell, sound and touch

Is vivid and pronounced.

She has done this every year

On their anniversary

It has been a decade now

She has learned to find

His esoteric presence in his absence.

The cup of nostalgia slowly engulfs her

As she gazes at his last letter,

She can feel his soul

Caressing her and holding her frail hand.

She hums their favorite song

To celebrate their togetherness;

Time stays, people go

Soulmates are never apart

Be it death or worldly separation.

-Purba Chakraborty

(31.01.2016)

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights – A Cup of Nostalgia [4] and Poetry Pantry #287

An Invisible Thread!

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Her heart was laced

With fog and mist;

He wiped it clean 

With his amorous touch

And showed her 

The sparkling dreams

That languished there

Since years.

The gesture didn't demand

Ounces of intricate words;

It all happened in the

Canopy of a magical silence

With an assuring look

And an invisible thread

That bind their souls together

Since ages.

-Purba Chakraborty

14.01.2016

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights – On Popular Demand [1] and Poetry Pantry #285

Price for Spontaneity

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I go to bed

Sharp at 11

Hectic deadlines awaiting

The next day.

A long day it's going to be,

My weary body needs sleep.

10...9...8...

I reason with my mind

Yes! Sleep is the best thing for you.

7...6...5...

I open my eyes

Pull my laptop 

Start typing a story

That was languishing somewhere

In my subconscious mind.

After 3 hours, I feel content and exhilarated.

I switch on the music

Soak in the moments

Feeling life is a beautiful party.

The tweeting of birds

Brutally break my reverie.

Biting my lower lip, 

I crash on my bed

I've to rush back to sleep.

Only four hours

For the strict alarm to ring

Well, that's the price

I've to pay for spontaneity.

-Purba Chakraborty

(12.01.2016)

I am a very spontaneous person. Though I try my best to follow a routine life and do things in a planned way, I end up being spontaneous. Most of the times, it helps me and some other times, it lands me in crazy situations. 

Linking my poem on Spontaneity with Prompt Nights – Spontaneous or Not [2]

Unsaid...

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Perfection is when

You grasp all my baffling words

Before they escape

My trembling lips; wonder how

You hear all that is unsaid... 

-Purba Chakraborty

05.01.2016

Tanka is a classic form of Japanese poetry related to the haiku with five unrhymed lines of five, seven, five, seven, and seven syllables. (5, 7, 5, 7, 7)

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights- Perfection hosted by Sanaa Rizvi and also 
with Poetry Pantry #285