POETRY

Prompted Thoughts

And Crafted Words In Between

Favourite Season

The sky is covered, with restless clouds, playing hide-and-seek, Lightning flashed, somewhere far away- And the sound of rain in a torrential stream. Nature invites raindrops, Rain touches — soil, beings, the earth. Mild sound of frogs, sand-ducks hide in bushes, On a muddy field, some kids are playing football in a mud-washed body.

Rain dripped water touches the window, Rain-loved breeze absorbs me, covers me with serenity, And with the cloud roars, drizzling rain and glittered nature, I hold on to my rainy season.

Awakening

Come on, wake up. Wake up, against exploitation Against injustice Against racism, Against bigotry, Against gender inequality, Against poverty.

If you want to wake up, Awaken yourself first, your senses. Be human first, to awake the others.

Woods

A deep, dense forest, with bunches of trees, covered in green enchantments, Birds on the branches, chirping sweet songs, Dried leaves, no footmarks of any human nature. Somewhere dark, somewhere the sun touches a little bit away from the darkness, High and low paths, wetlands somewhere. The forest princess enchants the forest spells, Spellbounding beings. You can hear her deep voice when your ears touch the ground. In the distance, the elephants are swaying; the monkeys are jumping and running, a snake just passed by, Maybe a tiger is somewhere in front, waiting for its prey.

The Woods — cursed by human-created boundary, Bounded within limitation. The woods no longer exalts, Silently it just wipes away the tears.

A Beautiful Morning in Dhaka

‘Tung, Tang!’ — the ricksha bell rings here and there, In the city of 52 bazars, 53 lanes, Crossing the small shops, crossing the footpaths. With smoky air filled with tea scents, word-storms roam here and there, chit-chat. The smoked rice smell, spreads everywhere from restaurants. Dense crowd, moving, bearing countless of stories, Searching numerous dreams, in their tedious life, within congested nests.

Movie songs in the local tea-stalls, Colored tea, milk-tea, biscuits, bread, bananas — in life. Fish markets around the corners, Silver Hilsa sparkles, waiting to be served in dishes. Temporary vegetable shops on the railway line- A train comes, shops move, the train passes, shops settle again.

The call to prayer, sound reflection from one road to another, The call to bow down to the Creator. Prayer bell rings, From Dhakeshwari temple, From the Armenian Church, From Basabo Buddha Temple. Hustling, bustling Dhaka — a third world megacity, far from developed status — covered in life’s battle.

Still, When I sit alone in the developed stature of Toronto, A song shakes me in reminiscence of joy, ‘Dhaka Shohor Aisha Amar Asha Puraisey’. (My hopes have been fulfilled by coming to Dhaka city).

©️Suntonu Bhadra, 2020. Rights reserved, but the happiness is not.

The above poems are responses to the prompt challenges by Neha Sandhir S (prompt: ‘My favourite season’), Upasana Sharma (prompt: ‘Awakening’), Hirsch Singh, MSc (prompt: ‘Woods’) and Somsubhra Banerjee (prompt: ‘Typical Bengali morning’). Here goes their amazing works, for yours to explore.