Best Choudhury Poems
Blush
fair skies
mist Sol-kissed
citrine seduced
mimosa clouds bask
dreamy in champagne light
golden-god’s sparkle fills
chalices roused and
rouged as poppies
hail dawn with
unfurled
whorls
Susan Ashley
August 16, 2021
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Merse
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
*rouged: verb; French; colored red*
*image: Nature Wallpapers > Fields > Poppy field at sunrise*
Leaves
Of gold
Shimmering
Like flames of fire
Dancing in sunlight
Panoramic color
Fall’s splendor, unsurpassed
Vibrant majesty
A symphony
For the eyes
Nature’s
Song
September 20,2021
Merse-Beauty of Fall Contest
Sponsor-Malabika Ray Choudhury
I
adore
kicking through
crisp crunchy leaves
of gold, red and brown
carpeting the damp ground
Biting winds chill our bones
pumpkin soup warms us
and we’ll snuggle
up by a
blazing
fire
MERSE - Beauty Of Fall Poetry Contest
Sponsored by
Malabika Ray Choudhury
Syllable count 1,2,3,4,5,6 6,5,4,3,2,1 checked with how many syllables
09/10/21
* written in collaboration with my friend Malabika Ray Choudhury
I thought my heart no longer flutters
an ache in its painful landscape
once wept in teary red eyes
I wondered why it no.longer flutters.
crushed in stampede of the world
perhaps in peace , crumbs of my heart
meanders in emptiness of an open window
I wondered why it no.longer hurts.
And then I turn around to your thoughts...
your laughter... your.voice...
in flick.of a second, in alluring meadows,
hovering around you, my heart flutters,
Oh, it was never lost, it still hurts !
Dated 25th April 2021
* Inspired by and translated from a bengali poem of Malabika Ray Choudhury
Monta Hariye Geche.
,
frisky newborn lambs
gambol on the lush green grass
black crow collects twigs
checked with HMS 5.7.5
Spring - Traditional Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Malabika Ray Choudhury
02/24/21
It’s the time of the year to make a steaming hot soup
To remember some of the best in our poetry group*
When I make soup I throw in everything I have in stock
My hot poetry soup will consist of many from our flock.
I will begin with a large piece of prepared Cunningham
Into the pot, to which I’ll add broth of Balasubramanian
Next, I’ll add spices of Ellison, Allison, and Krutsinger
Cooking for awhile at a medium to hot temperature.
I toss in helpings of sweet McIntosh, Rodriguez, Canerdy,
Buehler, Weiss, Proxenos, and lots of bold Choudhury.
I let the soup come to a boil, adding Logan and Dietrich
Turning it down to simmer soon after adding Kendrick
I cover it over with Gentile, mixing in Flood and Pinet
I let it bubble gently, perhaps, for the entire day
By now, my soup has grown and I am feeling rashly
Because I failed to add in some La France and Ashley!
Uncovering, I’ll add them both to the wonderful fixings,
Quickly tossing Wolf, Jacob, and MRR into the mixings.
The “sweet smell of success” makes me break into song
For its perfectly clear with Poetry Soup, I can’t go Wong.
#39 on Top 100 Poems of the Month
Poetry Soup, November 3, 2021
written November 1, 2021
[*My sincerest apologies to the many
marvelous poets I could not fit into my soup!
Please forgive me!]
This is a translation of the famous Bengali Poem " Banalata Sen". The author is
the renowned surrealist poet of India - Jibanananda Das (1899 - 1954). This poem is considered as his best and one of the all-time greatest poems of Bengali Literature.
I wandered for thousands of years on the paths of the world,
from the seas of Ceylon to the oceans of Malaya, through the darkness of nights,
I have travelled so much; in the distant grey world of Bimbisar and Ashoka -
I was there; still farther in the darkness of the city of Bidarva;
I am a weary soul, amid the wild foamy seas of life;
Banalata Sen of Natore bestowed me some peace for a few moments.
her hair reminds the dark nights of the long-lost Bidisha,
her face the fine carvings of Srabasti; in the farthest corner of the sea,
the sailor whose sail is broken, and who has lost directions,
when he spots a green, grassy island with cinnamon,
I sighted her the same way; she said, "Where have you been for so long? "
raising her eyes, like a bird's nest, Banalata Sen of Natore.
evening dawns like the sound of dews, the eagle wipes out the smell of sun from its wings,
all the colours of the world fade, I write the manuscript
of the story, the scintillating fireflies shine bright,
all birds return to their nests ~ all rivers meet their ends ~
all borrowings and lendings of life are complete,
nothing remains but the darkness, and Banalata Sen sitting across me face to face.
Translated by : Malabika Ray Choudhury
A loving beautiful mother,
A responsibly caring father,
A bit moody, yet, affectionate sister,
And me the Very Important member;
All I can imagine is a beautiful tree,
Our home was just like a nest on it.
We were like sparrows carefree, happy,
Praying, playing, sharing, caring…
======
====
It was then the terrible tempest blew.
As though just to destroy our nest!
‘Cardiac arrest’, they said.
My mother died on the way to the hospital.
I was three and unaware of many events.
Except the wailing and weeping;
All I could remember most is -
That scene of my father holding me,
And showing my mother in the tomb,
Shedding streams of tears and telling me:
‘This is your mother. See here for the last time.
======
====
Ours is a nuclear family,
My father had now dual responsibility.
Uncles and aunts convinced him,
And almost haunted him to remarry…
“I will not”, he said, “I will live for my kids,
Joys or pains – I will share with them every bit.”
These words he kept up
Till the end of his death
His highest moment of contemplation,
Was just lying on my mother’s tomb…
Thus crying and wailing and weeping
When I was just eight he went away too.
======
====
Though I feel I have cried enough,
For my father’s death later;
And my tears are now amply dried,
Thinking of and thanking his love and care;
Though time has cured much of my wounds,
The scene of my paternal uncle,
Shedding streams of tears and telling me:
‘This is your father. See him for the last time.
======
====
Tears Brim-fill my eyes even today…
09 June 2021
A Tender Moment From Childhood Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Giant poet gem, Tagore’s story-poem: NISKRITI,
Is a piazza perched paved and perfectly paced beauty;
Scale model of a castle of vast poetic kingdom,
That has spread into an empire of Indian wisdom!
Manjulika is a dew-drop in the mighty ocean,
Of the land of Bay of Bengal where feminine gender;
Fulfills wants of men as mother, wife, daughter and labors,
Less fulfilled of subtle cravings, in her heart she harbors!
Nucleus firm; Malabika has solemnly sung it,
Narration, like roots, stems, leafs, flowers, fruits of plants well-knit!
Images complex extract emotions, expose like day light,
Questions of destiny hang, like stars in dense dark sky, bright!
Figures of speech, like hand-picked coffee-seeds, well chosen,
And like gems and pearls in an ornament, fairly woven;
With stones of words and verses flat, oval, blunt, round, pear, square,
The edifice erected here is stern, solemn and somber!
05 December 2021
Inspired By A Translation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Reflection - The Fragrance of Grace
Mail order catalogs seem to have the ability to procreate in my mailbox. Just when I think I have rendered them infertile they give birth to multiple sets of quintuplets right under my nose as if by magic fertilization! And, of course, I have to examine these newborn opportunities to raid my bank account just to make sure I haven’t missed some article of clothing or thing I can’t possibly live without for the survival of sanity and my eternal happiness. They are like new spring leaves!
spring sprouts in new leaves
boughs sport jackets of light green ~
chartreuse convention
A new arrival from a New England country store pictured a garden of stately purple iris that immediately grabbed my hand and took me on a ride back into my grandmother’s iris garden with delicate, yet eloquent, perfume wafting from silky petaled garden royalty.
Each page was an adventurous journey through my childhood reminiscing about miracle wrinkle erasing creams, magic bunion healers and kitchen gadgets long declared useless by technology. But, one page made me stop, drop and drool - perfumes. No nascent scents but old friends looking at me from glossy pages bringing to mind the women who gave my life definition – the Royal Secret of my grandmother; Bellodgia and Gardenia of my favorite aunts; Tigress of my tigress mother and Blue Grass, a Kentucky meadow perfume of my teens.
These remarkable women straddled fleeing decades, crushing depressions, cataclysmic world wars often suffering the unthinkable loss of infants, children, husbands, siblings and miscarriages. Yet, through their signature scents, they taught me about thanksgiving in tragedy, faith in grieving and the irrepressible iron will to live in the fragrance of grace.
harlequin bouquets
fragrance of flower’s essence ~
sunlight washed gardens
4-21-21
Contest: Moments of Reflections
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
pussy willow's buds
soft and furry cat paw-like ~
spring's new bottle brush
~~~
24/02/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Spring - Traditional Haiku Poetry Contest
Malabika Ray Choudhury
howmanysyllables.com - 5-7-5
2nd place in the contest
Long ago I was given a medallion, a gift from a beautiful women
when she gave it she said "remember"
Whenever I look at it, I remember
The night, the music, the snow falling outside, the frosted windows
This medallion has a flower engraved on it, with the word love
When I look at the medallion a song plays in my head
a beautiful piece of music called Europa, it haunts me still
A night when love was held like a beautiful painting
by two souls lost seeking fire with hearts of caged emotion
where a timeless sense of forever was burned
into the fabric of our wants and needs
I can still smell her perfume, still, feel the smoothness of silk
still see the candles flickering she lit before playing Europa
On a small table, the empty wine glasses reflected the candlelight
in a glimmering glow
She led me into an unknown world with a smile
where every sense was opened and spilled
Of all the memories I hold close, none as tight as this one
The night I was taught romantic theater
by a beautiful woman and her music
3/14/21 contest I Remember
sponsor Malabika Ray Choudhury
calm
placid
clear blue lake
serene and still
in a wide palm-fringed
rich green verdant valley
mother duck leads and swims
in the tranquil lake
ducklings white, soft
follow her
one by
one
Date: 08/19/2021
For Merse Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Facing a street kid pleading for bread, I was gripped with mixed feelings, especially that I had in my possession purchased goods for our orphanage from a grocery with this label: “the good life you can afford.” Oh, the social worker in me could not escape being confronted with this question: “Why does a child have to beg for a basic necessity... when it can be afforded?” By God’s grace, I have settled myself with the answer while fulfilling my commitment.
emotions clashing
grieved midst reality angst~~~
still love* and care reign
* 1John 3:17 But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?
April 17, 2021
2nd place, "Moments Of Reflections - Haibun" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Malabika Ray Choudhury; judged on 5/11/2021.
She’s traditionally late on her wedding day
Uncle Arnold is waiting to give her away
Neil her groom paces, what’s the delay ...
Florist forgot Faye’s bridesmaid's bouquet!
Look, Neil she’s here, we hear the Vicar say
Organist starts, as the bride’s on her way
Wedding March is the music they play
Everyone looks to the church doorway
Romantic wedding for Neil and Faye
Service soon over, time for the buffet!
Sunflower Poetry Contest
Sponsored by
Malabika Ray Choudhury
05/24/21