Poetry – Gopal Lahiri

Two Poems

Change

The roads are empty,
people getting out with the mask and gloves on.

Despair and death are all around
as if a leftover bowl outside overflow

The wind carries the black grief
into the room that has no name.

The dark days are printed outside wall
we stand in a new normal life.

Time stands in front
there are moments you can forget.

A heron is dipping its feet into the lake
sparrows, pigeons, bulbuls fly around

They tweet songs of fairy tale
the grey clouds give way to the sunrays.

Uncertainty transmutes into hope
you feel better days are not very far.

A life with real masks on, eyes speak
unhurried and clean air lifts our spirit.

There are the musings of contentment
crossing the hurdles with ease and grace

Folded times

Sometimes our soft words open
hands and heart
to a commoner in distress.

I have folded the evening breeze
like pillow covers,
holding the conversation in silence

birdsongs are now like soft heart-beat,
it has a claim
yet write and rewrite all the time.

Late night whispers wafting perfumes
skin and bone beggars
lift their sinful bloodshot eyes.

The wooden door records soul stories
Screens are numb with fear
The morning is tender with the unheard voices.