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Best Poems Written by Tez Pallab Das

Below are the all-time best Tez Pallab Das poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Harmony

I'm in perfect peace with Lord
From the day since I signed the accord
Of making my life my sole asset
Whilst speaking with the soul's accent.

I believe in what makes me unique
With my thoughts , not my physique
Believing in the God's good plans
I'll find my abode in the unknown lands.

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Grey Shade

I'm not the darker shade 
Or the brighter one to be sure.
I'm simply grey , to which I dedicate
The polaroid of my emotions.
My notions often reflect the hue
I change into with the change of the mood,
While the peace of mind becomes a cue
For the incoming storm to be calmed by.
The shade turns darker even in the light,
Whereas , sometimes seen as bright in dark
And vice versa ,happens every passing night
Betraying any satisfaction to revere.
The grey as of now sums up my mind,
Being an occupant of both the boats 
There reside insecurities ,I must remind
But on a much calmer surface I stand now

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Lady In the Red Gown

Eloquently blushy rosy cheeks clad
Beautiful silken hair,coloured red,
Are tied to a bun;
Which are long if undoned.

Bright eyes with hopes within
Smooth sound of her breathin
Dressed in red sheath gown,
Which fell very well down.

Beauty was in her glance
I every bit of stance
She was a dream, real
Which seemed hard to deal.

Several hearts skipped a beat
For her beauty to treat,
They crave for her,and 
They yearn for her hand.

Details | Tez Pallab Das Poem

Puppets

Held on to the fine strings
Was the framework of a puppet
As the colourful fabric clings,
To its body depicting snippets
Of the rich culture passed on,
From generations ago 
And then it dawn upon
The newbies for it to grow.
Acts of the finest quality
Are enacted in those shows
Rewarded by the loyalty
Of the audience who chose
To enjoy the performance
Of the puppets or say the actors
While in reality was the brilliance
Of the puppet public's dictators.

Details | Tez Pallab Das Poem

Le Sable

A gale sweeping seashore ,
Witness to the Sibyl's utterings
Contains the sable unharmed 
With each passing jiffy .

Chandelier is mirroring moonlight,
Through the sable's surface serene
The sole inhabitant of the lone coast
Not that nights are lonely with the moon.

Crestfallen creatures , are unknown
Of the sable's loneliness ,
The sole survivor of the tsunamis
And the only surface to the beaches.

One mantelpiece surrounding the fire
Of envy and the insecurities ,
Betraying the smoke it clamps down
To feel the warmth , while burning inside.

The sundown , being an excuse 
To it's existence while it rests
It's fate on the facade of a million facets,
Dying while life insists to stay.

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An Epitaph

The days of happiness skedaddled
And made a grimace out of the wrinkled face
Which in a drunken stupor , saddled
With the burden of desires , unlike a sage
Broke into a lugubrious psalm.

Spurs hallucinated, hampering the vision
Hitherto held the verbosity to the mind.
Brevity , the soul of the known wit and precision
Was curtailed by the curtains making him blind,
With the dead silhouette , bound to be embalmed.

An escapist the rather practical man became
Mortified by the rather inconvenient inadequacies.
Of all the epitaphs ever scripted , it was a shame
Written for one's own lifeless shell , the colloquies
In an attempt to make oneself calm.

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Gem-In-It

I've been looking at the sky,
I wonder how the birds fly.
Fantasies awaiting,
Memories creating,
Embracing all the feelings ,I try.

I've got a gem-in-i (t).
Making up the thoughts go swirl.
Feeding up the hunger's whirl.

I be living for sometime,
Breeding all through the quarantine.
Like a lacuna ,I am filling,
In the hole I am digging,
I forgot how it feels to whine.

I've got a gem-in-i (t) ,
Turning all the roads with a curl ,
Delighting my mood with a twirl.

Thinking bout the life I see,
I longed for too long to be free.
Surprises awaiting,
Emotions are sailing,
I see the sea foaming, to flee.

I've got a gem-in-i (t).
Making the thoughts to go swirl ,
Feeding up the hunger's whirl.

Details | Tez Pallab Das Poem

Clock Work

Keeps it's calm, sitting silent
While the busy morning motions, 
But still it remains defiant
In the progression of the moments. 

The ticking  becomes audible ,
While the sun tops the skyline
The vision for the day becomes visible
By three hours past the nine. 

The clock ticks the day off, 
By the time of the sundown.
Thus the time turns into a bishop
Preaching orders,going round and round. 

The clock ticks the loudest, 
In the final hours of the night 
When the sound of the slightest
Creatures,  puts man up with fright.

Thus is the clock-work
Of a clock ticking time, 
Reminding always the dorks
To work for at least a dime .

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On the Move

Through the thoroughfares,
Started the defiant journey,
Went along , the worldly scares,
Whilts moving towards life's tourney.

Linked up the bits,
Made up the path,
Moving down the streets,
Enduring  life's wrath.

An absolute downhill,
No control on the speed,
Only obscurity and not a still,
Moving forward without a lead.

I'm moving past the scenery,
Learning life with a new vision,
Feeling the nature in its greenery,
Following the path without a reason.

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A Long Tenure

Down the busy road I ride
Spiralling control of the reins,
Drenched in sweat with pride
I surrendered myself to the rains.

Merchants I met many
During my service at the docks,
I couldn't but find ,any
Wanderer like me in the merchant's block.

The tenure I recall
Of visiting the sandy desert,
Where the sun lets the ember fall 
Is the only description ,it's  curt.

I scrambled up the slope
On my way to the tranquil hills,
Where my heart got solaced,
By the breathtaking stills.