Assam Poems | Examples

Tea time

Aroma of warmth, Aha! A cup of tea
Brewing romance, Yes, it's bittersweet.
Cheers of tranquility soak in solace
Darjeeling dreams, in Assam serene.
Ecstasy infused, our senses relaxed
Family and friends, bond captivated.
Golden or black, it's a drink just divine 
Have a cup of Tea...and all gets fine!
Induces a mood, adventures unwind 
Jingling china cups, in morning time.
Kettle whistles, bubbling with steam 
Loose tea leaves in hot water swim
Melting sugar in lemon and honey.
Night jasmine, or chamomile flavour?
Oasis in summer, green tea is amber,
Picnic reverie, A fireside tea in winter.
Quiet thoughts to sedate the beverage 
Rainy afternoons, cookies get drenched 
Solace of caffeine blend creamy cakes
Taste delicious, evanescent moments 
Under crushed cardamom is sober joy,
Valentine kiss: thou tea-cup you're mine 
Wrap of the elixir slows our fast mood,
Xanadu magic! the hot and cold allude
Yin and Yang stirring in balanced hold.
Zest of life is Tea Time...layers unfold.

A Muggy Day in Assam

The air is heavy—
like a warm, wet blanket wrapped around everything.
The sun?
Hiding behind a cloud,
like it doesn’t want to deal with the day.

The Brahmaputra flows—
slow, wide, calm.
It mirrors the dull sky,
grey and tired like it skipped breakfast.

The trees don’t move.
Not even a whisper of wind.
Just leaves, soaked with sweat,
hanging there like they’ve given up.

The cicadas sing—
a slow, sleepy song,
as June presses down on everything.

The earth lets out a long, hot breath.
Dragonflies zip past,
quick little sparks in the still air.

Then—
a moment.
Rain.
Just a sprinkle.
Just enough to tease.
And then—steam,
rising from the roads,
rolling off the fields like ghosts in the heat.

The tea plants droop,
lined up in rows,
too tired to smell sweet anymore.

But even in all this sweat,
this heat,
this heavy, breathless air—
there’s something strong here.
Something green.
Something alive.
That’s Assam.
Unshaken.
Unbothered.
Beautiful.

My Unfold Love

My Unfold  Love

   Dr Ranjit Dutta
        Ledo.Assam


A masterpiece unfolds
In the depths of my bosom,
In that art of love
A story yet untold.
With vibrant hues of passion
I paint a canvas of desire.

Each stroke of affection
Imbued with tender care,
Bringing life emotion beyond compare.
I carved a sculpture of devotion 
Molding with deep emotion,
I don't know the reason why.

In the art of my love
I wield the brush of adoration
Capturing the essence of pure elation.
In a wavy portrait 
Our souls are knit entwined.
I sketch the image of love
With delicate precision.
Each stroke tells a story,
A story of laughter and tears ,
Pleasure and pain
And etching memories of the years.

In every line and curve
A story unfolds,
The stories yet to be told
With art of my love,
I paint a masterpiece
The affection that will never cease.

A Plate Full of Dainties

  
Afternoon Tea
in a bone china cup
Tastes nicer
don’t you agree
~
Earl Grey tea
especially
when poured
from a teapot
after brewing
not stewing
~
For exactly the time
that it takes
for to make
a nice cup 
of Earl Grey tea
~
Lay out your best china
Royal Albert ~ Liberty
On a tray 
On a cake stand
there all for to see
~
Brown finger sandwiches
with salmon 
with ham
Scones and whipped cream 
homemade strawberry jam
A plate full of dainties
exquisitely made
Washed down 
with a cup of
Earl Grey
or Assam
~
So typically
English
is afternoon tea
Always a treat
both
for you 
and for me

Written 5th June 2022

Contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE

No True Repeats In Life

One calm evening,
on a leisure drive with my wife
along  the Inphal-Dimapur
National Highway,
I remembered 
my overnight road journeys
to Guwahati for office work,
sometimes together with her,
before my retirement a decade ago.

Tedious journeys,
winding through the hilly roads
of Manipur and Nagaland ,
yet enjoying the beautiful scenary.,
Intermittent short stops,
taking tea and snack at roadside stalls, 
passing through the busy marketplaces
in Dimapur and Assam.

Songs from Hindi films,
heard inside the bus
and at the marketplaces .

A longer halt at Jakhalaabandha,
where all took rest and food,
then arrival at Paltan Bazaar
in the morning,
searching for a hotel. 

We decided once again
to go to Guwahati
when the covid pandemic was over
boarding a night super
to recreate once our past journeys.

Back home, our little grandson waiting
for me to play with him.
I remembered then,
as the days,months,and years pass,
there will be no true repeats in life.

War

Men die in war
war occurs for men
In a war we play the game of faku
Blood
The colour of blood never changes
It remains the same.
Blood lies on the ground
Being the morning sun.
I ask blood who has borne you?
The sky? 
the wind?
Blood does not speak
It stays amidst restless desires.
War between men and men
War for the missing people
On one side, the victors
On the other side
lies the humanity defeated.
Now a question arises,

Address : Bandormari, P.O- Nohat, Dist- Sivasagar, Assam. (India) 8402808834

Who will sip
The cup of victory?

Tekeli Pitha

My beloved tekeli pitha!
They are rice cakes from Assam.
They are made by steaming them in a kettle (I call tekeli) lid.

Tekeli pitha 
or
Kettle cake
tint of jaggery 
making love with crushed coconut 
cloak in grained rice
and spell of sesame seeds 
steam and serve me
i tucked into the pithas in my kitchenette 
I live with the aroma here in Assam
I carry the recipe to you there in London

Khar

Khar!
or
An alkaline extract!
my mouth drools 
o! momma
everytime I think of the dish
whether it is the beloved 
amitar khar (i know as papaya khar),
tiyohor khar (i know as cucumber khar),
khar dal (i know as khar with lentils),
not to quit
sometimes with dry fishes or meats 
dish itself is the contentment when served
i call it as 'quintessence of Assamese Cuisine' 
elixir from the ashes of burnt dried banana peels
hey
when imbued
the khar dish with platter of steamed rice
whether i am glued in Assam or anywhere on this earth,
my heart's cravings...
portraits the way of a yarn-
'the viridescent melody muffled the white snow mountain dance in folk tales'
o! momma
khar with some rice

I Long To Be By Kuldip Medhi

Keep the door to your heart open
Flowing upstream all night on the Bhogdoi
I long to be the flute
That plays for you at dawn

Like the hum of a honey bee
On your moist lips, 
I long to be a melody of love
To be cherished for a lifetime

(Bhogdoi- a river name; which is in Assam, India) 

(Translated from the original in Assamese "Muro Mon Jai" by Mrs. Ranjana Sharma)

Home Calling

HOME CALLING

I rose from the soil and water of Barak valley
and like a white  bellied  heron , reached the sky
above the bamboo brakes and the blue hills
to live in an alien land for trivial needs.
But like an ancient father, the meandering Barak
beckoned  me, called  me to its banks.
I had blindfolded myself   ;
I had  lost the vision  of my land !
I was deaf  to the whistling air of Bhuban hill.
How many   years  have gone by under the neon light ?
I am not quite sure.

My identity has been left to urban dust.
Now that I am growing old, I hear the beckoning
I can see the blue hills, fluttering bamboo leaves
and the full moon cast over the flowing Barak.
I can see the  Sonbil , the wood- duck, the  kopou phool.

I want to sit by the banks and may ride a boat
across Barak.
If I sleep for ever in the valley, I don't mind.
After all I will merge back into the soil of Barak.
©pkdas 31/03/2017

Barak is a meandering river in Assam, India.
Sonbil is the largest oxbow inland lake
Kopou is the state flower.

Jenny Teapot

I loved you once, Jenny Teapot,
Until that love turned sour.
You poured the finest Yorkshire Tea,
On the hour, every hour.
But the love we had, went off the boil,
In a most disappointing way.
Betrayed by your affections,
For Darjeeling, Assam and Earl Grey.

The Forgotten Wood

the forgotten wood
 
                                       dead eyes of Ethel's baby

                                          dripping blood gravels*









                         * based on folk belief in Barak District Assam



horror haiku
unconventional haiku

Jai Hind

A poem for republic day.....
~~~~~ Jai Hind ~~~~~~~~
From great nation, India, we hail,
Where Indus valley used to prevail.
Emperors came, emperors gone,
We always regained our own throne.
Last was the English invasion on us,
Brutal than Alexander, Ghazni, and Poras,
Wings of Golden Bird were torn,
To teach Non-violence, Bapu was born.
Bhagat, Rajguru, Sukhdev chose their way,
With combined efforts came a strong ray.
Nehru, Lala, Shashtri we can’t forget,
But for unsung heroes we regret.
Finally the moment of freedom came,
Now the wildest elephant we could tame.
Tricolour perpetually tells us to go on,
Despite of Ram, Rahim, Aryan or John.
Democracy, harmony we really praise,
Most of the intellectuals of all, we raise.
Tell everyone this noble story.
How to take the nation to zenith of glory.
Independence and republic day are not only to celebrate,
We must ever have full respect to commemorate.
India is united from Kashmir to Chennai and Assam to Sind,
Let’s come together and say aloud Jai Hind Jai Hind Jai Hind.
Written by: I. B. Chhetri

A Hullabaloo In Hotel Astor

(A hullabaloo in hotel Astor)


                          My wife was flat-chested I named her Monotony 
                            Went to the hotel Astor with friend Polyphony
                                          Polyphony was a singer
                                     Strung up a stringer-a swinger
                              A hullabaloo  with Polyphony's  symphony










A hullabaloo in hotel Astor: Limerick©RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
14 November, 2014 Silchar, Assam, India

Happy Diwali Festival

HAPPY DIWALI FESTIVAL

The day we live with joys,
Sounds with crakes of harmony above the sky see,
Thousands of sparkle with ambrance,
Everywhere see the light of peace,
Some burned the sin of their lives,
And some burned the old memories,
Better than yesterday,
Everywhere I walk through, people of peoples with a smile,
All enjoying the festival  of Diwali with honest and pride,
The sound of that night all sorrows has been burn out,
With the smoke of evil,
Though the rising sun is all absent,
The smiling moon was here to give us it stays with a smile.
And ends with honest for Diwali is meant to joy.




By Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
Date of birth 28/12/1997
Address:- Hatigaon, Survey, Ajanta path, Guwahati, Assam, India.
Contact No: +919612146556
Email ID alexhaokipkips@gmail.com
Website : potmopi.blogspot.in

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