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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry." Mary Oliver
Poetry is my soul, Poetry is my life!
Writing is... what keeps me alive!
An aquamarine waterfall of feelings descend from the innermost corner of my heart…
unfolding the deepest thoughts, the loving thoughts, the glorious thoughts, the gloomiest thoughts…
childhood memories float in tiny rainbow paper boats,
dance on the softest petals of petite flowers emanating perfumes of arabia,
serenade me away to the forest of dreams in a playful swing of my coral passions,
weaving the tapestry of mysterious stories depicting eternal melody of love and loss.
I am a Nightingale…
singing a song of lavender dreams and hopes, under an ultramarine canvas blending turquoise sky and sapphire ocean,
twilight moon flickering ribbons of love,
my audience - the pearlescent clouds, gleaming stars, souls with a poetic heart!
I write for myself,
I write for you,
I write for the future generations to come.
My story is their story, my life is their life…
The vermilion sky at dawn kindle an inspiration in me,
So do the gossamer rays of crimson twilight.
humming river, cadence of ocean-waves, snow-capped mountain-peaks.
Twittering birds, twinkling stars …
History of human race …struggles and victories…
Writing unwraps
layers of my
soul
POEM OF THE DAY
FIRST PLACE
November 23, 2021
Inspired by "W" New Poetry Contest
Theme: Writing
Sponsor: Constance La France
I Write Because Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
FIRST PLACE
"Poetry Is A Life-Cherishing Force" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
FIRST PLACE
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2021
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
"a long walk to reach my destination.
I am still walking!" By Poet
It was a long journey ...
a long walk to reach my destination.
I am still walking!
born in a country of ancient civilization, of Vedas, of teachings of Buddha,
Thousands of years of spiritual heritage,
but a country which regained freedom from one hundred years of foreign rule..
excited, ecstatic, full of enthusiasm…
A new day was in view.
for women - in the land of Gargi, Maitreyee, Lopamudra -
learned spiritual leaders and poetesses of Vedic hymns -
society was still closed,
women were denied the power to decide their path, shape their life,
or express their opinions, aspirations, or feelings!
my movement was restricted
my feelings were restrained,
my freedom of speech and pursuit of knowledge
impeded! mine, and of many women like me.
creativity is the open sky which allowed me
to express my emotions and feelings unhindered,
Like an open-winged falcon I glided in the endless blue,
soared high in the infinity.
My turbulent journey created a new woman!
The more challenging the obstacles were, the stronger I was altered...
into a new identity.
From a demure, soft-spoken, bashful girl, progressively transforming
into a strong, resolute, determined, soul.
created myself ~ with bits and pieces, from multi-hued fragments of my life.
A metamorphosis for a human entity!
My journey is a journey of finding freedom
~ finding a distinctive voice of expression...
for myself, and for many others.
References: The Vedas are a large body of religious texts originating in ancient India. Composed in Vedic Sanskrit, the texts constitute the oldest layer of Sanskrit literature and the oldest scriptures of Hinduism (Wikipedia)
The Basic Teachings of Buddha which are core to Buddhism are: The Three Universal Truths; The Four Noble Truths; and • The Noble Eightfold Path.
Women of the Vedic period (circa 1500-1200 BCE), were epitomes of intellectual and spiritual attainments. The Vedas have volumes to say about these women (Gargi, Maitreyee, Lopamudra and many more) who not only complemented and supplemented their male partners, but dedicated their lives to the pursuit of knowledge and the study of the Vedas. They were paragons of intellectual proficiency, natural philosophy, spiritual enlightenment and composed many of the Vedic hymns. They were Rishikis–female sages–in their own rights and were revered as teachers, doctors and theorists.
March 20, 2022
For "Just Give Me A New Poem" Poetry Contest
Theme: Journey
Sponsor: Constance La France
FIRST PLACE
POEM OF THE DAY - March 23, 2022
"Journey Without Movement" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2022
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
among green foliage and slender twigs, perched a graceful mellifluous Nightingale.
Chickadees, Robins, Orioles stopped their synchronised cadence of rhythmic tweets, in anticipation..
a tranquil silence fell in the forest, a quiet trance around...
tall majestic trees stopped swaying their aspiring branches,
plants and shrubs and bushes softly emanated saffron scent,
rustling fragrant breeze whispered lilac mystery,
chartreuse clouds stooped and gently touched the treetops,
tangerine twilight moon flickered ribbons of love,
ravishing flowers opened their petite petals blazing red blush in awe!
Nightingale sang the most melodious song, sprinkling amber passion,
It sang a symphony pouring its heart, weaving
the story of eternal love and loss,
mesmerizing the audience with lavender dreams and hopes
a dazed forest stood still ...
All hushed !
Written May 6, 2021
POTW May 9, 2021
All Yours - June 22, 2021 -Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Submitted For 2022 Marathon Mile 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2021
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
Let me tell you a story....
of a little girl who didn't want to be a Princess!!!!
it happened a long time ago, in the life of an adorable girl of seven,
who lived in the busiest humming city, enormously crowded.
a gentle dreamy-eyed girl, who chose secret corners to read,
and play with her cherished dolls' house, which her father built.
as it happened..her father found a job..and it was an idyllic countryside,
excitedly she followed family, felt fortunate to be close to nature.
a fairyland of her dreams, a picturesque hamlet surrounded by lush fields,
lived in a cottage encircled by a gorgeous garden, bird-songs, and swings.
she went to the village-school, which was a mere walking distance,
carrying her backpack, water bottle, and books she needed.
her father was the powerful manager of the local textile mill,
where most of the villagers worked, and earned their living.
all the children glanced at her as if she were a Princess,
but this soft dainty lass craved to be purely one of them.
she noticed...those children were walking barefoot to school,
no backpack, no bottle of water, no shiny expensive clothes.
end of the day, she returned home, and declared to her caring parents,
"I don't need the backpack, bottle for water, or the stylish shoes...
starting from tomorrow, I am going to walk to school barefoot"
her parents were shocked, but didn't disagree with her at all.
from the following day, the warm friendly girl of seven,
felt totally comfortable and undoubtedly right, with her decision.
all children were frolicking with her, no more was she a distant Princess,
she was their delightful friend...sharing the same life they had in the village.
she still remembers those eyes which sparkled with wonder at the way they were accepted,
a lifelong memory was created, the gesture kindled a feeling of oneness.
April 16, 2022
For N - Form Narrative - New - Poetry Contest
Theme:Life
Sponsor: Constance La France
SECOND PLACE
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2022
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
art inspires me, Van Gogh fascinates me!
vermillion sky, glowing sunshine, rose-branches waltzing,
birds chirping melodious rhapsody.
art imitates life...often at midnight,
I get up, gaze at the Moon, mysterious beauty of
a crescent shape! stars illuminating the dark sky ~
glittering fireflies..diamonds on the tiara of Mother Nature!
Night-sky - a majestic painting by our Creator
engrossed at His work!
when Vincent Van Gogh looked at the starry sky
from the window of his asylum...what did he see?
He saw turbulent agitated swirling waves...
are those the reflections of his own tempestuous mind -
with numerous failures, anything he attempted at..
religion, sales, teaching, love..did he find his ultimate path
in painting? a meteor...a short-lived burst of talent,
which amazes the world even today ~
The more I look at the paintings of this mastermind,
I am fascinated with the depth of feelings,
the melancholy, the search for the truth of a true and unique artist!
symbolic steeple of a church - visible above the abodes in a humble village.
The village and the Church did not exist in the sight from his window,
Vincent Van Gogh's imagination created the village at the bottom of the
mountains - a memory from Netherlands of his childhood.
The sky is vibrant with turbulent waves, but
there are glittering stars, and the gleaming Moon with hope..
overpowering Cypress Tree in the forefront...reaching the sky,
a towering tree of mourning...overshadowing the brightest star of morn!
death was not ominous to Van Gogh,
merely a bridge between life and heaven,
Vincent Van Gogh had an extraordinary way of visioning the world...
his paintings bear the passionate soul of an exceptional mind!
fascinated with awe I see the post-impressionist painting
of a dreamy night before sunrise,
A tortured mind of a Genius had captured with his inimitable brush-strokes
of blue and yellow.
Reference: The Starry Night is an oil-on-canvas painting by the Dutch Post-Impressionist painter Vincent van Gogh. Painted in June 1889, it depicts the view from the east-facing window of his asylum room at Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, just before sunrise, with the addition of an imaginary village. (Wikipedia)
Post-Impressionists extended the use of vivid colors, thick application of paint, distinctive brush strokes, and real-life subject matter, and were more inclined to emphasize geometric forms, distort forms for expressive effect, and to use unnatural or arbitrary colors in their compositions.
May 16, 2022
For "Fascination And Awe"" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2022
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
shade of vermilion encompassing sky at dawn,
pure fragrance of delightful jasmine in summer,
luminous dew drops quivering on lotus leaves,
an almost-forgotten melody from my childhood!
all these and many more…
bring the memory of my mother!
I remember her illuminating smile every day,
I remember her pray…
her eyes closed, her hands folded,
her lips uttering lovingly everyone’s name.
she struggled through a war-torn difficult time of the country,
worked hard for raising her own children…
and she supported many other children as if they were her own.
she didn’t sleep until the sick and the elderly were taken care of,
she didn’t eat until no one was starving around!
every dainty and softest petals of flowers,
carries memory of my graceful mother,
her body was fragile, her mind was strong,
she inspired devotion and dedication to minds around!
she is gone from this world…
but she has left her soul in the ethereal colour of the glowing dawn,
in the ambrosial scent of her exotic special flower,
chimes ring, soaring from the tranquil temple,
and reminds me of the peace and serenity
I witnessed in my mother.
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2023
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
Sharing my translation of a famous poem (Sadharan Meye) written by Rabindranath Tagore, who won Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. It's one of his story-like poems, written in Bengali, which is one of the regional languages in India, and the National Language of Bangladesh. I grew up in India, and I grew up with this language and with the works of this poet, who was not only a poet, but a Song-writer, Novelist, Short Story-writer, Dramatist, Essayist, covering every part of the literature. He was the first non-European to get a Nobel Prize.
I started translating poems in English a few years before, and by now I have a collection of translations of his work, and the work of a few other renowned poets. I thought, perhaps it would be something valuable to share with my poet-friends at this site.
An Ordinary Girl (A Translation From R. Tagore - Nobel-Laureate in 1913)
I am a girl from the inner court,
You wouldn't recognize me.
I have read your novel, the last one to be published,
“The Garland of Withered Flowers”!
Your heroine “ Elokeshi” fell in love at the age of thirty-five,
She was competing with a twenty-five year old,
I have to say – you were so generous,
You let her win!
Let me tell you my story.
I am young.
I touched someone’s heart,
Probably with my youth.
I used to feel thrilled having known that,
It slipped my mind that I am a very ordinary girl,
There are hundreds and hundreds of girls like me,
They all possess the charm of their youth.
I beseech you,
Please write a story about an ordinary girl.
Her life is gloomy!
If she has something really valuable in her
How she is going to prove that —
How many people realize that?
They get captivated by the youthful beauty,
They don’t unearth the inner soul,
We get discarded like a Mirage!
Let me tell you why this came up.
Imagine, his name is Naresh.
He said, he never caught a glimpse of anybody else like me.
Did I dare to believe that?
Did I dare not to believe?
One day he went to England.
I receive letters occasionally.
Keep thinking – Wow! There are so many girls in that country!
They are all competing with each other,
And, all of them are fascinating –
So smart, so bright!
And, they all have discovered the one Naresh Sen
Who was a nobody in his own country!
In his letter by the last mail, Naresh wrote –
He went to the sea for swimming with Lizzy,
(He has quoted two lines from the Bengali poet –
where Urvashi is appearing from the sea),
Then they were relaxing on the sand beside each other,
Gazing at the dancing blue waves in front of them,
Sky lit with bright sun.
Lizzy murmured in a very soft voice,
“ You are here only for a few days. You will leave soon.
Two parts of a shell, a droplet of tears covering the middle.”
What a charming way of expression!
Naresh also added
“ Perhaps those words are made-up, but aren’t they stunning?
A golden ring with a diamond is not real,
But is it not?”
You can guess, he is pointing at me with a comparison,
It breaks my heart,
Letting me know – I am nothing but an ordinary girl.
I don’t have the wealth to pay the price of something precious.
Alright, I accept it.
I will remain a borrower for the rest of my life.
I beg you, Saratbabu, write a story
A story about a very ordinary girl –
The unfortunate girl who has to compete from far with at least five to seven sensational women –
Fighting with seven chariot-women.
I know, I have lost.
I am defeated.
But make sure, your heroine wins –
The girl you are writing about.
Make sure she makes us proud
( God bless your pen)!
Name her “ Malati”,
That’s my name.
You are not going to get caught,
There are hundreds of Malatis in Bengal.
They are all ordinary girls,
They don’t speak French or German,
They only know how to cry.
How will you make her win?
Your thoughts are high, your pen is powerful.
May be you will take her along the path of sacrifice,
Of greatest sorrow, like Sakuntala.
Please have compassion on me,
Bring yourself down to my level.
In the darkness of night, in my bed,
The impossible blessings which I ask for, from God,
I will not get it,
But your heroine will.
Make Naresh stay in London for seven years,
Make him fail in his exam.,
Again and again,
Stay pampered by his followers.
In the meantime,
Let Malati pass M.A.
From University of Calcutta,
Come first in Math by the magic of your pen.
But don’t stop there, you don’t want a blemish on your title of The King of Literature!
I might be unfortunate,
But don’t curb your imagination –
You are not a miser like The Almighty!
Send the girl to Europe,
The wise, the scholar, the brave, the poet, the artist, the rich – all will gather around her.
let them discover her like astronomers do –
Not only because she is a scholar, because she is a woman;
The captivating magic she has
let them find her mystery, not in the country of foolishness –
In the countries of thoughtfulness, of kindness,
Among British, German, French.
Let there be a conference showing respect to Malati,
With all the famous and the powerful,
Imagine all the praises being showered at her,
She glides by with little care
Like a sailboat in the middle of waves.
They are whispering about her eyes –
The rain-clouds and sunlight of Indian sky blending in those eyes,
(Here I have to admit, not being immodest, God has really blessed me with beautiful eyes. Although, I haven’t met any European admirer yet!)
Naresh will come there and stand in a corner,
And his group of breathtaking women!
And then?
That’s it. I have nothing else to say.
My dream is over,
Oh, the silly girl!
Oh, the waste of power of the Creator!
Translated by Malabika Ray Choudhury from the original work "Sadharan Meye" by Rabindranath Tagore.
Posted on June 12, 2020
Translator's Notes: Saratbabu or Saratchandra Chattopadhya is another writer at the time of Rabindranath Tagore, who wrote novels mainly about women and the sufferings they went through.
Featured Poem in the Week Of March 28, 2022
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2020
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
Snowing tonight….incandescent, luminescent,
Silvery snow, whispering divine dreams..
Air misty, breeze calm, serene! Do I see the
Brilliant Star, which directed the wise men
To a stable on an evening of starry twilight ...
When the three wise magi spotted the
Brightest star in the east, their surprise,
And their exhilaration knew no bounds!
Our Lord has come to us, the star beckons,
We must follow the glowing light and find our Saviour!
Sights through my window-panes are blurred!
Rooftops getting blanketed with white
Shimmering laces! treetops beautifully
Embellished with silver ornaments,
Grasses caressed by softest drizzle of snow!
This is the night, holy night for the universe
When we welcome our Lord to illuminate
Our life! They found Him in the manger,
Divine baby and Holy Mother they prayed to,
Most precious gifts were showered on Him!
We gaze with wonder at glittering stars above,
On this magnificent Christmas Day, in every
Glistening snowflake I behold Christmas magic -
An aura of love and compassion for the needy
Envelop the world with spiritual grace and harmony!
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2022
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
The old rusty gate CREAKS open,
I hear the blowing wind WHOOSH and HOWL,
blazing autumn leaves waltz MURMURING
stories from a forgotten past,
The lonely owl HOOTS, SHRIEKS TU-WHIT TU-WHOO,
rain falls DRIP-drop…PITTER-PATTER
A door shuts BANG somewhere
making me SHUDDER!
The desolate staircase is dusty and empty -
lamenting for footsteps of CHATTERING, GIGGLING
children playing hide-and-seek,
dry leaves CRUMBLE under my feet in the orchard
which once smelt ambrosial!
The place WHISPERS an exuberant childhood…
my heart FLUTTERS to recollect
the HUMMING music of the quaint hamlet…
bees BUZZING around the colourful flowers,
butterflies flirting with roses and dahlias,
birds CHIRPING melodious tunes which
serenade to far-away RIPPLING streams.
The swing has stopped, birdsongs are gone!
The rusty gate SQUEAKS open..
July 3, 2021
"Onomatopoeia" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
23 Onomatopoeia words (In Bold) have been used.
22 Lines
THIRD PLACE
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2022
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Malabika Ray Choudhury Poem
the yellow bird is back to the tranquil meadow
where my soul finds a true repose,
she didn't leave me....
I speak to her every day,
she tweets back with glee!
we talk about the illusory flamboyant days
which tip-toed away in a veil,
the glistening saffron-hued days
when I was twenty-one,
with trancelike beat in my feet, enthralling song in my heart,
dreamy eyes unfolding beauty of love!
with amber kindness in my soul,
with tangerine hope in my voice,
with azure grace in my walk,
with vermillion exuberance in my dance.
that twenty-one is never really gone,
I still feel its demure whispering,
the hope, the dream, the cadence, the beat,
it's incredible! never left me!
Yellow Bird, I know you come from afar,
where aquamarine clouds rendezvous hazy mountains,
where shimmering ocean splashes the ruby-red horizon,
where chartreuse waterfalls descends on coral rocks like a symphony…..
I offer you all my songs,
my music, my soul,
my dream, my hope,
to carry it to your alluring land...truly amazing!
And sing, and sing, and sing!
FIRST PLACE
July 2, 2021
For Brian Strand (July 12) Poetry Contest
Copyright © Malabika Ray Choudhury | Year Posted 2021
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