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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: Winter
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Wednesday, January 6, 2010. I never understood these mute chasms. Which separate us in this hopeless exile. These shadows cast by the fire in our hearts. Many long winters have passed and. Yet I brandish this forgotten childhood. Like a talisman to ward off evil. In this misty rain.
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: November 2009
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Saturday, November 14, 2009. Beloved, this dying day is no different. Like muted gongs, this child of the stony night. Promises no sound of rain. How many more lives. Do we offer on this hungry altar that knows no prayer? How many deaths do we die like withered spirits? And my mother s...
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: August 2009
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Sunday, August 9, 2009. Hungry Strings hug my heavy feet. White Toe Nail, Love. Hysterical grunts, Muted screams. My Blue Eyed Love. Who sits at the edge. Of a broken chair. In her blue, green eyes. To taste it later. My blue eyed love. Tuesday, August 4, 2009. Of what was once.
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: A Poem Comes Of Age
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Thursday, January 7, 2010. A Poem Comes Of Age. We cannot walk together anymore. Man and woman. These days it. Is not safe to say things in the open. There are revolutionaries out there. And Patriots . Sons of the soil. Who may not like us, taunt us. Earlier no one cared who loved.
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: July 2009
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Friday, July 31, 2009. My early morning frown. My grandmother, granny. Is the strongest woman on earth. My grandmother, granny. With eyes like tender, dew wet. Grass on winter mornings. Like a dark overcast sky. Eyes, liquid and placid. Only she herself knew. Her long, flowing hair.
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: January 2010
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Friday, January 22, 2010. Poem published in Gloom Cupboard #115. To read this poem on this blog, click this. Thursday, January 7, 2010. Empty sounds emanate from. Elongated lobes, like torsos of. Desireable women with plastic smiles. The wind is an unwelcome guest. To a stray catfight.
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: Night
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Thursday, January 7, 2010. Empty sounds emanate from. Elongated lobes, like torsos of. Desireable women with plastic smiles. The wind is an unwelcome guest. At this odd hour, shattering any. Hope of ennui on a Sunday night. Candles flicker like half grown. Survey my banal diet with.
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: March 2010
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Friday, March 12, 2010. Sometines people pick up reputations for nothing. Aflazur, the grey haired youth once slept with many. Women love, he says does not teach the difference. Between the musky fragrance of different flesh. Inside,. You know my love, I feel lost in these wounded roads.
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A Vagabond's Soliloquy: September 2009
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Macbeth). Monday, September 21, 2009. Challenges of Art: Anurag Rudra. I know the times are bad, that we are in trouble, that our art is slowly dying out.true. But which art has always treaded a smooth path? What is life without challenges? Sunday, September 20, 2009. My first bengali poem.
