Poems by Jyotirmaya Thakur
The Humble Bench
A bench in the park or in the street,
Is a silent respite and commendable treat ,
It has a staunch dependable identity,
A reliable supporter of insecure community.
A lucrative appeal for wearied customer,
To the grand old lady or lonely widower,
A melancholy seat for an idiot or loner ,
Rendezvous for lovers or friends together.
A legacy for the dead a bench is named ,
Many mystics and poets owe their fame ,
To this humble bench under the bower ,
Reflections pour with fragrant flowers .
Paupers,beggars have a place to sleep ,
Under the stars a repentant openly weeps ,
A stalwart of exemplary communal entity ,
Couch for inconsistent or pensive serenity.
The park bench where many hearts bond ,
Many generations owe relationship strong,
An elegy for death of untimely young or old,
In memoriam in oak wood or metallic bold.
A bouquet of harmony
Pink red blended blossoms
Nature in handpicked hanging
Sweet silver chimes
Of white crimson joy
Leaves tucked with care
All crimson and fair
No knots visibly dare
Of voluminous share
Like two budding roses
April born darlings of May
Golden glow for short stay.
Lucky abundant sets
Pleased dangling droplets
Like all things blessed
Spring in bounty expressed
Petals fluttering in whispers
Free butterflies in full spree
Stems settled in bleeding parts
Bring smiles to silent sad hearts
Simple wisdom hidden in flowers
Secret of beauty is company of bowers
Strength inherent in leafy green covers
Breathless adoration in splendid showers.
Jyotirmaya Thakur @copyright reserved.