Sunday, October 22, 2017

Kausik Ananda Bahubalindra writes


No  Sms, no E-mail, no Chat.
A letter I do prefer to write you
As in pocket close to your heart
With a rose - fresh, deep red, fragrant
You keep it while awake
Awake till 10 p.m.
And under white pillow as asleep
Asleep till 6 a.m.
Also my letter you smell at will
Long live the smell
And you smell with a smile
Smile that never fades away .

It’s a letter
Letter written in red ink
the colour of my love that shows
And the red ink of my pen 
Even if thousands of letters I write 
With this pen carefully kept aside
Only to write for you,
Would never run out as prepared

In the laboratory of my heart,
As endless is my love for you -
Endless, dauntless, priceless.

It’s a letter - a letter hand written
Not beautiful as yours though
But the softness of my fingers
You sense as you touch the words
And the words you read bit by bit
As under a tree each day you sit.
Not enough are the words to express
Yet extreme love at my heart
I deposit for you forever.

While writing the letter, I fall asleep
Asleep for some time
And surely see you in dream
A dream of you too writing to me .
My ear-rings dangle, my bangles clatter
And I wake up as also my hair
The breeze sent by you, does flutter.
Everytime I kiss my pen as your name
I write time and again by the pen -
Your gift so precious to me
And in the light of lamp looks shining
Your name like the stars out of reach
That twinkle high in the night sky.

Thinking, thinking for hours,
What do I write to you?
Should it be a love letter -
In poetry or prose form?
Or my other feelings do I share? 
As my entity you cover in entirety .
Or a letter filled with your name only ?
A name - sweet, smart and nice to utter.
Or you are what to me?
Love is not to like but to share
To share your everything I’m ready
Do you too?

No speed post, no courier, by a white pigeon
That flies to the sky of your region
Where on the bank of a river, you live alone,
I send my letter sprayed with french odour
And water, food, shelter for rest
You give to my messenger - a witness
Witness to our love as pure as its white wings.

Maybe the reply delayed
But I wait for ages till you reply
As I firmly believe, you are mine,
That I’m yours, I strongly believe
As always, we are born and made for,
Promised and addicted to each other.
Our letters make the ground
The ground - wide, plain, fertile,
For our meeting, long awaited
As confirmed and confident we are
In our love 100 percent.  

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