Horror

Who cried at night?

It was long years ago
When my father had to go
Leaving the quarter after he retired
And then a house we required.

From Kolkata we move to Darjeeling
Where are among the Pines and cooling
Atmosphere we sheltered in a house
So silent that we could hear a mouse.

The days where always windy and dry
And the sun was hardly seen in the sky
And the nights where shivering, sighing sound
Of winds and howling among the deodars profound.

At night I did not come out
Nor did I hover about
Around the trees, as I was twelve years old
And was not at all bold.

The days passed smoothly
And I went to school regularly
My father also got appointed in a mall
And returned late when the night did fall.

One day it was night
The moon was not in sight.
I was waiting for my father at the gate
Because he was ins unusually late.

I shut the door and went inside.
And found the nature calm outside.
Then a strange sound I heard
Methought it must have been a bird.

I came to the backyard window
Opened it, the source to know
In the backyard, there was a room
That always remained in gloom.

To my surprise, the sound did not cease
Rather increased and did me tease.
It was not a sound but a cry
And of whose to know I didn't try.

About this I told my father
Who said:'You neednot bother.
The cry would've been of a prey
Caught by any predator hardly seen in day.'

But the next day in the evening
I got frightened hearing the bemoaning
Cry. I wanted it to ignore
But didn't and opened the back door.

Suddenly, the wind started blowing hard
And tall trees tossing in the backyard.
I banged the door behind
And sat with a clear mind.

At night as my father came
I told him and he said the same.
At midnight the cry started again
I woke and saw it was drizzling rain.

Through the window I noticed someone's loom
Proceeding slowly to the opened back-room.
A nd I spent a sleepless night
Without putting out the light.

The next morning, the door was closed found
With footsteps leading to the woods around.
I ran in and took my father who gazed
Those steps being utterly amazed.

My father told the truth revealed by the people
That once there had lived a young couple
Unhappy with his married life
Here the husband had murdered his wife.

Melody of Nature

A Cuckoo Bird

O bird! when you sing, 
We enjoy your song
Music of sweetness does ring
In the heart of nature long.

Why don't you go  and bring
Your friends here on the  bough 
And together with them sing
A soft melodious strain now.

Are you all  not flying-singers 
Who can attract any overseer
'Cause, of spring you're harbingers?
Enamoured,  the overseer does the melody bear.

The  mother does her child rear
While making him sleep in the pram
And says him your music to hear
In stead of showing a little ram.

Oft in noonday you break the serenity 
But your soothing music helps in nap
Of those who come from the city
And tired, they surrender in nature's lap.

Homeless

Homeless

With her two young ones
I saw her alone on the roof
In  a wretched and feathered out
Plight- almost drenched and shivering.
I gave some grains to them
Two unmatured hungry chicks
Began to eat but she didn’t,
Instead was looking somewhere else.
Then I understood it rained
And had a great squall previous night
Now she was looking for the safest place.
Poor mother mynah !
Had she alone, she would have
Flown up to the top of a tall tree.
The young ones had finished
The given grains and the merciful
Sun dried their wet wings.
I wanted to say the mother
To stay if she could understand.
How could I guarantee her safety at all?
The dark clouds started covering
The blue sky before thunder and storm.
The birds had to fly where they did not know
But that place must be the place where
She would foster her youngs.

Life: A Diary

Life: A Diary

Sometimes I want to sit alone
Under a tree of my garden
And want to read the diary of life:
A half-written diary.

The earlier pages of the diary
Contains my earlier memories:
Happy and unhappy
A bit laughing and a bit crying.

I feel a tremendous sense of joy
In doing so 
And I desire to read
Those pages again and again.

I contemplate to write
Those unwritten pages.
What a peculiar diary it is!
In a day I can write only one page.

Tomorrows will come and help me 
Fill my blank pages one by one.
Don't know. Will I be able to read
This diary as a whole?

21/01/2017

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About Me

I am a student of English Literature under Calcutta University, India. I like to write and love reading poetry all around the world.

Vickey Prasad

A Poem of Love

Let Me  Be

Let me be the path
On which you walk ahead and reach your goal.

Let me be the pure air 
That you breathe till your entire life.

Let me be the rain drops
That sooth your soul and relieve your senses.

Let me be the hand
That wipes away your precious tears.

Let me be the clown
That keeps you happy whenever you're sad.

Let me be the mirror
Through which you see yourself.

Let me be the guard 
That protects your chastity.

Let me be the medicine
That cures your diseases and heals year hurts.

Let me be the book
That you like the best and read the most.

Let me be the coffin
That ultimately sleeps with you.

                                            

Poem about Solitude

Loner 


Aloof from the multitude
I want to live in solitude
Alone in the house where sound 
Never sounds or is found
Each brick of which is made
Of silence and where the bed
The roof, the window, the walls
Are dead and cry never calls.
And dumb is my every thing 
Among which I'm lonely being
I never live in solitariness
As with me lives the loneliness.

Open The Door of Poetry

A Deserted House

Come anyone of you all

And unlock my long-locked door

But listen do not make a call

For its echo scares me more.

Alone I  am since  my owner's death

A good and very kind personage

Alone I hear  his serious breath

And he wanted to read life's every  page.

Once happiness and  family he had.

His passionate and loving  wife

And his two-year mischievous lad

Died  untimely and deserted his life.

He mourned, sobbed and cursed his lot.

I saw his tears and listened  his mourning.

With his elegiac  notes my heart is fraught

As he hanged himself for new beginning.

Let my door to be opened  forever

Let the wind blow away dead plaintive tones

Let not me be alone to shiver

So that the tones can never tremble  my bones. 

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A Little Girl

A Little Girl 

A little girl of ten years
With little eyes full of tears
Gazes upward in the sky
And up to the stars, wants to fly.

She's selected two of them
That seem to be same
And says:'He is my father
And she is my mother.'

With joined palms she prays the moon:
'You're the queen. Do send them soon.
At night they both come to see
But never come to me.'

She thinks of each star
That is twinkling afar:
'Parents of orphans they must be
From earth whom they wish to see.'

She dreams of a great wish
And promises to believe this:
'One day we'll be also sent in the sky
And so we do not have to to fly'.

Nature

Sounds of Nature 


The cuckoos that sing trees to trees
And nightingales' note are melodious found
Over blossoms buzzing of busy honey-bees
And the warble of other birds are the constant sound.

Sighing of winds makes rustling of leaves 
Thundering of clouds makes pattering of rain.
Purling streams, rippling waves that nature gives
And compoes eternal tunes that never wane.

After rain, the croaking of frogs
On the roof hooting of an owl
Yelping and barking of stray dogs
Are merging  in the jackals' howl.

At homes mewing cats frighten the squeaking mice
On the thresholds the morning sparrows twitter
That I like as it looks and sounds very nice
And it becomes sweet to sweeter.

Who does not hear the sounds of nature?
But  I hear with my heart and soul.

I am a Rare Bird

I am a Rare Bird

Let me fly and fly

Up to very high

In the infinite sky

 I have the wish and will 

To glide and perch on the hill 

And also to see every rill.

World's most beautiful sight

I will see day and night

With the heartiest delight.

I like to be alone

My abilities to be shown

To everyone to be known.

Let me sit on higher mast

Gaze the sea, enormous, vast 

That is moving very fast.

Poetry and its Pleasure

She Calls Me 

She came when I was all alone

Helped me always smile

And I started smiling with her

Some questions arose in me:

Who was she?

What did she want from me?

Why was she trying to show me

The charm of this life?

But until I came to realize 

The name of the bond between us

I was very late.

Because she went so away from me

That I could never see

Her simple, smiling face again.

She must have gone to

The land of beautiful

Sight, light and delight.

I know not whether

I shall go there or not.

Each and every minute

It seems to me

She calls me to join her.

Let's ponder.

Dreams

Sometimes

In the storms of dreams

I find myself lost.

In dreams and their streams

I get tangled most.

I smile and I laugh 

I cry and I weep

This is not enough

I ponder in sleep.

Not know

From where they originate, 

Start to flow

And make me ruminate.

Our unfulfilled desires

Manifest in the dreams

Among them a dream inspires

And in another one screams.

Always I deem

Do we really sleep

When we have a dream

Or in our dreams we peep?

A Poem for Her

A Poem for Her 

I want to compose a poem for her
Whose eyes are like twinkling stars;
Whose cheeks have rosy blushes;
Whose lips make appealing smile;
Whose hairs are streamy and shiny;
Whose words echo in my ears and
Whose face appears in my dreams.

Poem and it's Pleasure

A Laugh in The Cottage 

Once upon a time l

Lived the jungle by

Aloof from other cottages and alone 

And in front of a giant stone. 

Years back a clown had stayed here 

Who had left the house spare

One day lying on the bed

He had been found dead.

I was a common woodcutter 

Who could get bread and butter

By cutting and trading the wood

And in this way lived in happy mood.

One day it was night

And there was no light.

Yet I became glad

For a lamp I had.

The night sank into darkness 

Only it prevailed quietness 

Suddenly I heard a laugh

That  was short enough.

And I found myself standstill 

The laugh was short but shrill.

I did not remain standing and

Searched it with the lamp in my hand.

And then I heard the same 

But from where the voice came,

I was somehow able to trace

It came from the staircase. 

With wide eyes I neared 

To the staircase but feared.

At once I heard someone rushed

I was horrified and hushed.

I slowly went up the stair

But surprisingly no one was there.

But in the faint light of lamp all 

I saw was the clown's red-nose-ball.

Then again came the laugh

This time long and loud enough.

I thought it was the coming of the clown 

Dropping the lamp I quickly ran down.

My First Poem

Caring Nature

Often being very tired
I sit always under a tree
A light gentle breeze is required
For me; birds' sweet sounds free
Me from fatigue and make feel:
Had I wings now
I would sing with zeal
Like evening birds on the bough.
And when straying the leaves-
Through which the setting sun peeps
A rustling sound the breeze gives.
It's inaudible when a machine beeps.
The kind nature cares and heals
Those who with her simply deals.