The Tower Journal

Pijush Kanti Deb

Poor Honesty

Honesty, surviving in a populous jungle,
never hunts a blissful heart but it falls a prey to
a selfish attitude of a wild heart,
eats reluctantly the humble pie
along with its heart out,
protrudes its eyes to a dual
between its optimism and pessimism,
feels a resultant quivering under the blanket
as the three entities-
its body, mind and soul fall out among themselves
regarding the possible report of
post-mortem of honesty- still alive somehow.

Nevertheless, they neither cut any ice
nor draw a hard and fast line between
poor honest and its grammar,
waste only their logical arguments one by one.

Maybe, honesty cries from the house-top,
leaving all hesitations and confusions,
tries to bring itself to light
yet its divine virtues
draw blank to merge with the sun.

Hark! The offspring of Noah,
the remaining blossoms of earthly paradise!
Let honesty be escorted, respected and dignified
and be rescued it from the present danger of coma
before the jungle brings a full-stop after honesty.

Bearing A Grudge

Bearing a grudge-
a poor intention of a heart,
maybe, rich in good wishes
but ought not to be run down,
in putting two and two together
one can see eye to eye
with the mortals and the immortals,
‘’Bearing a grudge is sin-less’’.
The morning –air-
free of dust and dirt
but not of grudges.
Temple, church and mosque-
the devotional catapults,
start throwing grudges
of all professionals and their counterparts,
wrapped with contradictory prayers,
filling the air and the sky with
the sound of the silent grudges,
‘’More please---No more please’’.
Ought not to be surprised at all,
even the prayer-loving God
forgets to make a figure
and stands in the crowd for a prayer-
full of grudges expressing His longings,
‘’More sorrows--- More prayers’’.

The Turning over a New Leaf

The turning over a new leaf
throws down the gauntlet
to the luminous sun-rise,
takes aback at the new leaves-
turning their noses at the nectar
and preferring a glass of hemlock to sink.
The blissful neighbors are prompt
to take down the useful epics by turns
yet reluctant they are
to take a leaf out of another’s book.
Alas! Undead robots they are of dead scientists,
programmed diplomatically
and manipulated commercially from top to bottom.
Paralyzed they are too to own eyes
but ambidextrous to their blockhead ears-
Receiving blindly others’ provocation,
bring about untimely spring in consequence
and shed down before their maturity.
Counseling, good wish and blessing-
the glittering pearls are cats and dogs
in shedding on them
yet putting two and two together
seems to be more difficult today.
Nevertheless, tomorrow is quite hopeful
for a giant and effective push-
delivered by an honest morning
capable of breaking their sombrous slumber,
reshaping them to humans from robots
and rewarding them a reformative zeal
to turn over a new leaf forever.

The Poor Body

A philanthropist must throw mud at the incident-
happened in front of open eyes
but of closed heart and soul
and give the cold shoulder to
a confused body and its feelings.

The poor body is instantly carried away
by its injured left hand
and the heart is cut to the quick
by its strong right hand-
surprisingly indifferent and passive
to the ill-fated left hand.
The body is astonished and thoughtful,
prompt to beat its brains,
yet neither a healing rhythm is found
nor a pacifying song is sung,
except a pitiful groaning in pain
and shedding of tears in consequence.
It shows the wound to the right hand,
relates the painful feeling of the left hand
and prays for sympathetic co-operation,
nevertheless, it cut no ice on the right hand.
Finally it puts two and two together,
‘’The right hand is paralyzed’’
and decides logically to treat
the right hand before the left hand.

A Journey

Nothing is to be dropped a veil over
the infinite depth of our heart
millions of dropping in to it
seems to be a drop in the bucket.
Nevertheless, a journey is to be undertaken,
maybe, from a zero to an infinite,
in quest of necessity, comfort and luxury,
in guise of common devotees of
both God and Devil,
uttering the magical hymn ‘’Something More’’.
In the vast course of journey--
plains, hills and mountains are trampled,
rivers, seas and oceans are steered
elephants and whales are made upside down,
ants and insects experience a combing search
by our hanging tongues,
the Hell and the Heaven are used in weight-lifting
on the signal of the rise and the set of the sun
with many beckoning hands and eyes
of the nearest and the dearest.

Copyright © 2014 Pijush Kanti Deb

Pijush Kanti DebPijush Kanti is an Associate Professor in Economics with more than 180 poems and haiku accepted or published by Indian and international publishers since June 2013, including Tajmahal Review, Camel Saloon Blog Spot, E-pao.Net, Dead Snake Blog Spot, Down in the Dirt, Poetic Monthly Magazine, Poems and Poetry Blog Spot, Poetry 24 Blog Spot, Long Story Short , Gean Tree Haiku Journal, My Word Wizard, A Handful of Stones , Kalkion, ,Verse Engine,The Apple Tree ,High Coupe , Madswril, Whisper, Mel Brake Press, The Voice Project ,Vox poetica, Kritya, Criterion, Calvary Cross . Muse India, Busting and Droning Magazine, Pennine Ink , The Artistic Muse, Guwahatian ,, Galaxy International, Sentinel Quarterly , IS&T webzine , Poetry Pacific , Teeth Dreams Magazine, an Anthology edited by Colin Dardis, and The Tower Journal.

The Tower Journal
Fall/Winter 2014