Poems by Shamik Banerjee

“A Bonfire During Storm”

It took place in the anteroom,

With pulao and a homemade cake,

Some light bulbs did the place illume

And those were all for merrymake.

‘Twas not at night when we did it

As night itself was in the day,

The Sun was far, the clouds hid it,

This town, a cloudburst washed away.

Some bruvs and kins who lived nearby,

Came with bevers, drinks and cigars,

Their amplitude replaced the sky

And laugh and smiles replaced the stars.

A lantern replaced the beechwood,

A white-lit ceil replaced the moon,

With these we joyed as much we could,

In that bonfire in stormy June.

“Gulmarg Valley”

Boon brought me here among your meadows green

O’ Gulmarg Valley; little I have seen

In human world, a province so pristine—

Now such a realm is true before my eyes;

Acquaint me with your firs, the grainlands wide,

The span-new bloom, parterres, the riverside;

If you become my dwelling, friend and guide,

I’ll be relieved from world’s discordant cries.

Though one may claim: for true peace of the heart,

The Maker should be sought and not His art,

Then why did He create your placid height

Where eremites reside to feel His light?

For fleshly eyes would not see Him, He knew,

So kept for us, His godlike mark in you.

“Yousmarg Meadows”

O’ Yousmarg meadows, dressed in dew,

Talk to your flowers’ mottled crew

To welcome me as one of you

And here I’ll gladly stay.

The butterflies, the Redstart’s calls,

The rivulets, the waterfalls,

The conifers and white-ridged walls,

Will be my night and day.

And if you can, among your bloom

Reserve for me a little room,

Such grace will save me from the gloom

Which laps the worldy bay.

“To the Earth from an Astronomer’s Standpoint”

Oh! little, ovoid, bluey ball,

Are you in truth my ‘Earth’ at all?

You were a mammoth days ago

And now a pismire slim and small.

Oh! look at you, atomic dot,

Are you the keystone of my plot

And praxes that I’ve come to know?

I am bewildered by this thought.

Good Lord! beneath your cirrus thin,

I’ve rivalled men, I’ve sought to win

For which propitious day or tide?

For what acclaim to store within?

Now who is friend or who is foe?

Now what is mine, what do I know?

Now who is right and who has lied?

All vanished with Truth’s undertow.

But what I’ll do is what I’ll borrow

From joy to man, his lightened sorrow;

Today we are from that one Tree

Divided logs; same ash tomorrow.