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Best Poems Written by Anwesha Das

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

Details | Anwesha Das Poem

Camel

Hey- what'll you do if you're left alone,
and it's not all, on a hot and dry land
Where nobody is nix known?
Listen to a camel's heart-
Camel, storing all its strength in its hump,
and looking very-very smart.
Camel resists in desert's dirt,
Can you think how much he envied?
He's often called the 'ship of desert':
This is because of their
 Ability  to navigate the harsh desert
which sounds awful and mournful
But never mind, it's all desert's scramble,
So hats off to camel uncle!

Details | Anwesha Das Poem

Dreams Adrift Ocean

I entered the world of sleep,
Where creations danced on waves.
Cliffs loomed vast and deep,
Their mystery stirred the brave.

The rhythmic ocean’s motion,
And the world’s life-laden view,
Revealed secrets of the ocean,
Surprisingly witnessed by few.

I watched a sailor take his ride,
Steering the boat with flair—then he fell.
Though currents surged with the spring tide,
I held tight to my precious shell.

Then crackling sounds broke the dream,
Nature’s embrace slipped away, so nice.
For a moment, bound by a wild, green theme,
Till reality struck—my bowl of rice.

Details | Anwesha Das Poem

A Starry Night


Every day, every night,
I see the starlit light.
Stars continuously twinkling,
Like glitters softly sprinkling.

I often behold the sky,
Dreaming of a time to fly.
When those objects start to shine,
I feel their presence, sheer divine.

Thinking of soaring high,
Alas, I always sigh!
Nevertheless, why do they shine bright?
What to do with my yearning sight?

In the vastness of night, I search with my heart,
Longing for the light that sets you apart.
Though through the darkness I wander, near and far,
Little object, why are you so far?
Always tryna find you, my star.

Details | Anwesha Das Poem

The Past That I Remembered

Sometimes back, I used to be...
A role without a model, a student without success,
Where “sounds great” was a phrase I struggled to express.
But sometimes back, I used to be...
A star in my childhood memory,
Chasing dreams without courage, not quite brave, not quite free.

Sometimes back, I used to be...
Lovable, tangled with awkward unity,
Where harmonious smiles lifted joy but often fell short,
A happiness fractured, reduced without retort.
Still, I marvel at the mystery of who I was.
Yes, sometimes back, I used to be.

I wish I could still touch that bewildered wonder,
Moments full of magic, like silent lightning, quiet thunder.
Yet my mind insists I'm not bewitched,
Just a soul that’s changed, somehow switched.
I don't know why I've started feeling outmoded. 
As if someone overcompensated for joy stolen away,
Taking with them my victorious smile, bright as day.

Sometimes back, I used to be...
Dreaming often of solitude, a world all my own,
Where tears left my cheeks soggy, but it didn’t matter,
Because in that place, I felt a hope unshattered.
Yes, sometimes back, I used to be—
A spirit wild and free, untamed by time,
Longing still for the echo of that past life’s rhyme.

'Cause sometimes back I used to be...

Details | Anwesha Das Poem

The Magical Nature

How much time will you be in room?
 Please come, play with us and bloom 
Behind the bars, there's a chirping bird,
 Sleeping still, have you not heard?

The gentle air through the breeze, 
Occuring from moving of trees
 Forests looking beautiful by its blow
 "Hey You, focus it's showing its glow".

Everybody likes the rain, 
And go for a dance on the plain
 It fills the ponds and rivers with cheer 
Making the weather a little quiver.

So let's go and break the boundary,
 Leaving behind each doubt and quandary
 With courage and fears and spirit wild, 
Will face each challenge calm and mild.

Details | Anwesha Das Poem

A New Sunday

Clouds moving, alarm ringing;
Yet the child sleeps still...
Daydreams drift, revealing their boredom,
All this soul desires is the taste of freedom.

Eyes opened, scanning the room,
Parents' schedules echo with a familiar tune.
It's Sunday again—
Yet parents busy strategizing,
Planning for the week ahead, no time for realizing.
Without a word, the child's spirit takes flight,
For it’s a day of loneliness, a quiet blight.
Mind attacks, life feels tragic,
Sunday break, once more, feels like magic.

Once, weekends flew, weekdays spun all around,
But sorrow whispers, "You've wrongly found!"
Wishing fictions were reality, reality fiction,
But all that we seek is lost in fractions.
It's Sunday here, once again!

Thoughts racing, finding ways,
Yearning for the lap’s soft embrace.
Nothing more than sheer negligence,
With no power to the soul's utterance.

Wishing for a chance to speak, so quick—
That in a blink, the soul could vanish thick.

Yet, people say Sundays are “fantastic,”
But the soul's mind is turning drastic.
Daydreams morphing into nightmares now—
No one to care, no one to endow.
This is how a modern Sunday feels—
A longing heart, an empty wheel,
Telling, "It’s Sunday break once again!"