Partha Sarkar New Poems

Partha Sarkar

Three-fourths of the sins

The green handwriting from the sway of my childhood.

I do not forget the meagre meal served by my noble mother.

Yet, I cannot tolerate

The nightlife

The eternal vomit of wisdom

And no question from the dead ring of the solar system.

Yet I cannot tolerate

The sounds of the sobbing and the weeping

When they write the names

Of mass hysteria

Carnage

Garbage

And then I wish no salvation for the dead city

And the nitty-gritty is –

We have not touched the river

We have not seen the flight of the birds

Since we met development.

Above all,

No clock has welcomed the cloak of the fog.

The digital consideration

The shadow of the war.

The closed substance

And a clue to clear the sky.

The digital consideration.

Yellow hope.

Have reached the top of the corpse the frequent centuries

Without telling where the rooster is

And it is dawn

And you may tell the open secret to open the door

And it may open.

Everything is possible

If one is dead.