Thursday, 15 August 2019

Poetry 2019 Longlist, Arijit Das


 Untitled

The greatest author once described the seven stages of man,
And it makes me wonder,
As I have made a journey on that line,
Which stage could be the best of mine?

Makes me wonder, makes me think,
As life is going by faster than I can blink,
I ask my heart, pray tell,
Which stage shall I bring back from the wishing well?


And everytime I hear my heart says,
It's voice turning to a scream,
It can be none other than my school days,
My golden days.

I remember them like it was just yesterday,
Whining and complaining on my very first day,
Before the gates of the dreaded castle I stood,
"I can't survive in here.. How anyone could?"


Impossible hours turned to days then years,
Unknown faces turned to friends.
And that dreaded castle from that first day,
Turned into my home from home away.

Those were the best days for sure,
When friendship was real and hearts were pure.
When "I'll never talk to you again" lasted only
Till the next day when again together we will be.


This boy was no longer whining,
But heading to school with strides long,
With a smile on his lips and a face bright,
No longer intimidated of the castle's mere sight.

Now sadness was in the day ending,
When the final bell rang,
And the long wait for the day to end,
Till the next morning to meet the gang.


I was living the good life, a dream.
But reality hits sudden and hard,
We realized that one day will come when
Our footsteps will depart from the castle only to never return.

Slowly but surely that day arrived,
The day was so short, the winter solstice would be shy,
Vows rained and promises thrived,
"We would be friends till we die."


Hollow promises and empty words are in trend,
But I would say I'm blessed,
Memories of my second home can't be washed by any rain,
And my second family with me still remain.

In melancholic memories or with tears of joy stay I should?
But the later is what I chose.
For I lived my school days to the full I could,
Heart full of memories and a book full of stories yet to close.
A tear rolled down the cheek,
Strong as I am, it makes me weak,
As I stroll down memory lane of my school days,
My golden days.

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